Remnants Of Embers
by Sherlock'sbones
Summary: With the Demeter Gateway gone, several Spectre facilities in ruins, and the Demeter Fleet deep in uncharted space, elements in the IMC have begun to question Spyglass. As the Militia gains momentum, steps must be taken to ensure their dominance of the Frontier. Regardless of the casualties - regardless of its origin. (Sequel to The Banners We Fly) 10/07/19 - Chapter years updated
1. Phase 1 - Prologue

_Hey everyone, something of a foreword here._

 _The idea for Remnants started back sometime around Chapter 3 of TBWF and I've been waiting to actually get to it. While Banners was focused on telling the story of Titanfall, Remnants is going focus on the DLC as well as experiment with different styles. That being said, I don't plan to post more after completing this story._

 _As always, thanks for reading and thoughts are always welcomed. Take care._

* * *

"Expedition"

Unnamed System

Designation: Athena – Site of new Fleet Operations Base

2212, May 14th

* * *

Jack Barnaby looked up from his surveyor tool as he looked over the vast swamplands before him. It was another hot muggy day as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. This was his third point to plot out today before he returned to base. Jack was a part of a small crew bringing this unnamed planet up to colonizing.

He peered back through the lens of his surveyor tool again, sighting between a couple of nodes to measure the distance between those points. Jack blinked as fresh sweat rolled down his face and into his eyes. The readout read 378 meters and Jack reached for his tablet to record the number.

Several loud cracks drew his attention from his tablet and Jack saw several IMC ship silhouettes break through the clouds. The cracks from their jumps sounded like thunder claps as the sound washed over the trees. Jack gripped his floppy brimmed hat as the gust they created. After a moment of watching the ships pull into a holding position, Jack ran over to his radio. If the IMC were here that wasn't a good sign.

"Michael, this is Jack over by sector thirteen! A whole heap of IMC ships just broke atmo!"

"Yeah Jack, we saw it on the scope. Hersh's been trying to raise them on the horn but they haven't responded on any channel." Michael replied in a grumpy tone.

"We filed this claim on the ISCM-507 a couple years ago didn't we?" Jack panicked, referring to the Interstellar Star Chart Module number 507, which was a plot of all known stars and planets within the Frontier.

"Yeah – we did. They're probably here for suspected Militia or some shit!"

"But there ain't been any Militia here!"

"Don't you think I know that!?" Michael snapped. "But a corporation of their size could make ours disappear. Cause or no."

"Ohh shite! There goes our finder's bonus!" Jack pulled off his hat.

"Shut up about the damn bonus, just stay on the line. Okay?"

"Yeah..." Jack trailed off as he clicked off the radio.

Quickly, Jack broke down a lot of the useful equipment and threw it into the back of the Samson truck, he wasn't about to stay around with the IMC up there. There was a chance that if he drove deep enough into the jungle, their sensors wouldn't pick him up. As Jack slammed the car door and turned over the engine, he remembered the interference in the swamp. That was as good a place as any to hide out. Jack put the car into gear and tore down the hill into the jungle below.

* * *

The field office of Landstrom Venture Incorporated was nestled near a run off some kilometers from a swamp. The planet, known only by it's id number: LV – 426, had just begun to have accurate surveys of the planet's dense jungle and the promising ruins they spotted from their seismographic scans deep under the swamps. It had been a good find and one that Michael was eager to claim for their flagging business.

In the last few weeks, they had theorized that the planet could be an treasure trove of jump fuel from the vast pockets of oil they found underneath the surface. The best part of all was that the whole planet wasn't inhabited by people. Landstrom could do as they please with the whole place without filing any red tape. Michael had already anticipated animal conservationists from Haven or Angel City making a protest to their offices but what he hadn't counted on was the IMC to take notice.

They needed the fuel for their ships but the IMC had several other planets they could just evacuate like Victor or Eden? Wasn't it too much work for a bloated corporation like themselves to even bother trying to start from scratch, wasn't it much easier to evacuate a populous instead? Michael slapped his face. They'd found the planet. They'd done the groundwork. The IMC were just going to force them out.

"Over my dead body." Michael muttered as he left the communications room.

"Where ya goin'?" Hersh whirled around in his chair.

Michael shrugged on his jacket with an emblazoned "LV" on the back and strode out the front door of the survey field office just as a Goblin dropship was touching down. It's silver and orange colors glistening in the afternoon light. Michael shielded his face as the dust of the Goblin made an impromptu landing. Michael was sure there was some corporate lawyer in there about to try and shut them down but Michael patted the Hammond pistol on his hip. _Lawyers didn't wear body armor now did they?_

The Goblin came to a rest but instead of a lawyer getting out, six heavily armed Colonial Marines piled out of the dropship followed by a woman in a red Pilot uniform and black hair shaved on one side. Michael cursed, if there were Marines then they were looking for Militia and soldiers were always harder to get rid of, plus this woman looked scary as hell.

"Hey! What's all this?" Michael shouted over the whirl of the Goblin's engines.

The Marines filed past him and stormed the field office. Michael turned around to shout at them but turned back as the woman came towards him. This must be the leader but she didn't look like any normal IMC jarhead.

"What the hell is this? There's no Militia here!" Michael shouted at the man.

"I know." The woman said in a sharp English accent looking around the burgeoning facility.

"Then what the hell are the IMC doing here! We filed this claim with the charter's office in Angel City two years ago! You're violating our corporate rights!"

The woman began to examine her fingers, clearly not giving a damn about corporate laws. Well, if she wanted to play tough, Michael would play tough too. He unclipped the strap to his pistol.

"I wouldn't try that if I was you." The woman said not looking up.

"Oh yeah?" Michael said hotly, his hand slowly reaching for his pistol. "Says who?"

The Pilot didn't even look at him. How could she even hear him over the sounds of the engines? Michael didn't need an answer, there weren't that many of them. He could take them.

He reached for his pistol and pulled it on the Pilot but she was faster. The Pilto grabbed Michael's wrist and twisted it, wrenching the pistol from his hands. Michael yelled in pain as the woman pulled his arm onto his back and forced him onto his knees.

"I told you not to try it." she said.

The Marines shoved Hersh through the front door and into the dirt. Hersh's face was beat up and bleeding. The IMC Grunts continued to kick him and shouted for him to get up.

"Was that everyone?" Their Commander asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant Slone." One of the Marines replied.

"Good." The Pilot pulled out a Wingman pistol and motioned for the two men brought together. "Now, where's the rest of the personnel?"

"I'm not telling you shit." Michael stated spat. "One transmission and my lawyers are gonna be up your ass."

The Commander scoffed. "Trying to be a hero, love? How 'bout you? Where's ya friends?"

Hersh looked at Michael and then at the Pilot. "I know your company's reputation. I hope you never find them."

"Cuff 'em." Slone ordered.

The Marines wrenched his arms up and slapped the metal cuffs onto their wrists. Hersh and him were brought towards the Goblin and up the drop ramp. Michael tried to shake himself loose from the Marine's grip.

"Just... where are you taking us!?" He demanded.

"Up." She said.

The dropship lifted off and soon Michael saw they were high above the facility.

The woman began pulling bullets out of her Wingman's chamber, "People like you always want to be the hero. The problem with being a hero is..."

Suddenly, the side drop door to the Goblin opened. Michael gritted his teeth in anger. _Fucking bastards!_ Slone slapped the chamber shut as she stepped in front of door.

"You have to be willing to die for what you believe in and if I were you, I wouldn't try so hard!"

"What are you doing?" Hersh yelled.

"Good question." She answered. "Here's how it works. One of you tells me where your friends are and the other one gets thrown out. Simple as that."

"That's fucking insane!" Michael shouted.

"True," the Commander answered, "but it gets results. So one more time. Where are your friends?"

"Fuck you!" Michael said rushing towards the Commander, if he could push her out the door that'd be worth it.

The Commander easily stopped him and threw him onto the deck. Michael's head slammed against the metal.

"Toss him." The Commander said to the Marines.

"No, no, wait! Wait! They're on the ridge to the south!" Hersh screamed.

"Check it." The commander said.

After a moment someone reported into the Pilot's ear, "IR confirms there was vehicle on a ridge 20 kilometers from here."

"Good." Slone pulled her pistol on Hersh and fired.

Hersh's head snapped back from the large caliber round, spraying the hull with blood. Michael turned his head away from the scene. It was obvious to him now that the IMC didn't care about anything, they just did whatever the hell they wanted.

"You god damn bastards." Michael gritted his teeth.

"You can toss him now." Slone said and two IMC Marines grabbed Michael and threw him screaming from the dropship.


	2. Chapter 1 - Noah:Lena

"The Second Battle of Nexus"

Freeport System

Harmony

2212, October 24th

* * *

The smell of smoke wafted over the once green fields. Once, farmers would wait to see the sprouts of their vegetables, now soldiers waited for the enemy to show his head above the trench line. Days that were spent waiting for clouds of rain were now spent waiting for the clouds of smoke to clear just so they could glimpse the sun. The rivers were dry or poisoned, the trees burned or chopped. Rain no longer drifted over the fields in gentle waves, only ash coated the dead fields of Nexus.

Greed had brought this. The IMC and their overlords in the Core Systems had come to the Frontier to plunder their lands and reap their crops. Desperate to fix their own world that they had ruined with their own greed. War had naturally followed on the Frontier. As waylaid technicians and disgruntled workers took up arms against their old employer, who had reneged on old contracts and enforced martial law. The whole IMC was a sick bloated cancer that threatened to destroy all it touched. It's body too large to support even itself as the individual was crushed beneath.

The Militia was also greedy. The weapons they had cached here long ago was the justification the IMC needed for it's invasion of Harmony. If the IMC were a cancer then the Militia was a virus corrupting the Frontier. Bands of criminals, renegades, and mercenaries, all they sought was individual gain. The consequences didn't matter just so long as the IMC suffered.

For six years, Harmony had suffered from both faction's greed and Magistrate Noah Greene had been there from the start. The people of Harmony were a peaceful folk, keeping more in tune with the spirit of friendship than war. Their long history of disregarding the outside, and even calendars in most areas, had allowed the IMC huge gains at the start of the invasion. Fate as usual, was not kind and in cruel irony, many were cut down by Spectres, the symbol of the technology they had shunned all these generations.

The people of Harmony banded together and even their sons and daughters were willing to join in on the conflict. Greene could not blame them for their anger but saddened by their willingness. Harmony, as it's name suggests, was meant to be a simple place away from the strife in the galaxy. Instead, all that Greene saw was the broken promise of a better future as a multi-system conflict was waged their war on his soil, tearing his people apart within and without.

It was not all hopeless. Through out the last year the Spectres had dwindled and his people grew more experienced. Slowly, they forced the tide to change in their favor. Noah Greene grieved for what his people had become. He loved his people and his planet and because of such, had to lead them on a path he detested. A magistrate first, a general second, Noah Greene had hardened his heart against the invading IMC army that threatened his home.

Throughout this conflict, Greene had sought a better way to lead his people. He knew that once the IMC were gone the people of Harmony would try to return to their fields and the cycle would begin again. The freedom his people had known was gone and in it's stead would be vigilance and deterrence. Harmony had to be protected and to do that they had to find their enemies and attack them first.

A series of explosions pulled Greene back to the present. Mortar Titans racked their frontlines from the protection of Nexus: the last major holdout of the silverbacks. The town of Nexus had fallen when the IMC first arrived but this was their fight to take it back. They just had to silence those mortars. Greene walked to the edge of the bunker and peered out the window. He pulled his binoculars to his face and watched the smoke trails arch over the sky.

"Has Darragh's Pioneers reported back yet?" Greene demanded.

He had ordered the Fourth Harmony Pioneers, also known as the "Bloody Fourth", to infiltrate ahead of the patriots to take out those titans. Greene turned to look at Apprentice Duncan as he surveyed the holo-board. Duncan looked up at the Magistrate-General and shook his head gravely.

Noah turned back to the bunker's window and continued his watch on the IMC's perimeter. He'd been patient with the fields, he would need that patience now. Mortars continued to hammer their positions as the IMC harassed them from inside their cage. Just outside the bunker's window was the full host of Harmony's volunteers, known as patriots, ready to charge. If they had to wait any longer, the IMC's air wing would finish rearming and come around for another run. Darragh had to finish it now or else they wouldn't get another chance like this.

With more waiting in store, Greene turned his thoughts to another topic. It was a habit he had developed to stay his mind from worrying. What would they do once they had bested the IMC from their world? It was a question he thought about a lot. Would they inevitably join the Militia or rise as an independent world? With victory seemingly on the horizon, Greene had to grapple with these questions. Whatever the future would bring, Harmony must always come first.

"Sir," Duncan drew his attention away again, "They're in position."

Softly from Duncan's headset, he could hear the morse code signal from Darragh. Greene drew back to the window in time for the mortar Titans to explode. Huge patches of ground shot violently into the air as the Fourth's satchel charges detonated.

His gut churned as he knew what must come next. He was not afraid to order men to die but loathed that it had to be so many he'd known. Greene nodded to Duncan to order the swarms of patriots to charge the Nexus. Duncan quickly began relaying the order.

The enemy's Titans in reserve came forward with their guns to cut down the charging volunteers. Their impact was felt immediately. The volunteer's only real reply was their archers but it wasn't enough to bring down the IMC's Titans. What few Titans they were able to spare were assisting the volunteers as best they could. Their condition was poor and most were sent to fire from the rear, where they were the most protected, using the bipods of their X0-16s to provide covering fire.

The advance stalled as the enemy Titans soon took back their ground and the IMC's air wing had returned. All was not lost however, as Greene had ordered another unit into position as well. While the Fourth had completed their objective, the other unit had been readied.

Greene had held back his best unit, a group of modified Atlas chassises built by their Pilots almost from the ground up. Vanguards they called them. Each looked none like the other but they all were flexible. Greene's army had no standard supply of ammunition, no standard depot for parts, all they had were their ability to adapt. Every Pilot who piloted a Vanguard had to know their machine inside and out, fix it in the field, as well as know how to use any weapon it came across. It was demanding but so few had those skills needed that those who did, could be trusted with these precious Titans.

The First Vanguard revealed themselves from their camouflaged positions inside the fields, close to the IMC positions. The large red V's glistening on their chassis. Taken by surprise, the IMC Titans that had left their fortified positions were quickly destroyed. True to their name, the First Vanguard threw themselves into the assault. Launching their acolyte missile pods at the low flying Phantoms and IMC Bombers. They struck several from the sky as the patriots resumed their charge forward towards the Nexus.

"Master-Pilot Uji here," leader of the First Vanguard radioed in, "We've broken their first line of defense. Proceeding to meet up with the Fourth, over."

"Excellent," Duncan responded and turned to nod at Greene, "continue your attack towards the IMC's headquarters."

"Roger, for Harmony."

"For Harmony." Duncan repeated.

 _For Harmony._ Greene thought. The magistrate knew his people. They would fight longer and harder for Harmony than they would for any other ideal. Dying for their land but they wouldn't die for him. He knew this and also knew how to use it.

"Apprentice," Greene said, "relay to all patriots that this is to be the final battle. At all costs, we must retake the Nexus!"

"Yes, Magistrate!" Duncan stood up straight with enthusiasm.

He began his task with gusto repeating the same lines over every comm-channel. No retreat, we must break them. In just under six years, they transformed from farmers to soldiers to ousting the IMC from their world. How frustrating that must be to the technologically advanced Generals of the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation. The thought made a smile form on Greene's lips.

* * *

 _To all patriots of Harmony, we must retake Nexus! No retreat! Make the IMC suffer for every of inch of ground they stole! This must be the final battle! We must break them! Onwards!_

As Duncan's voice filled her ears, Lena Darragh, leader of the Fourth Pioneers, felt shivers through her skin as he urged them onwards. Even before the dust had settled the IMC had opened up on them from a fortified office building. The thick machine gun fire had killed friend and foe alike, as both Harmony patriots and Colonial Marines lay dying in the mortar pit. Lena was thankful for the fact, she was so short in this circumstance. If she was a head higher, she may already have lost it.

"We've gotta press forward!" She flipped her red scarf around her neck.

She led them way from the mortar position, keeping a low profile by staying on her hands and knees, through the trench ways that led to the town. Bullets smacked all around them, blowing holes in sandbags and other debris. One of them struck home, hitting one of her Pilots in the back killing them instantly. Lena didn't even pause to see who it was, clearing that pit was more important.

"Uji! I need acolyte pods on that office building!" Lena screamed as an archer rocket upended mud and smoke into the air.

"Copy that." He replied, voice faint over the noise.

She and the remainder of her team took cover behind a junction as the acolyte rockets slammed into the building. The multiple rockets detonated inside the structure causing it to collapse. Dust swept over them as the wind carried it across the scorched fields towards the charging patriots.

"Darragh, that was the last of our pods. Any of those quad rockets survive?"

"Maybe!" She grunted as she rolled over the side of the trench and started sprinting towards the nearest building.

She rolled the last few feet and flattened her back against the wall with the what remained of her team close behind. Reaching into her armor she pulled out her old compact mirror and slid down to the dirt and carefully moved the mirror past the wall. The street looked clear all the way to the Tiffany's Coffee. Darragh was about to order them forward when several Marines accompanied by Spectres pulled out of the coffee shop towards the front.

"Let's go! Those pig farmers are trying to break through!" Their sergeant yelled.

Lena put out a hand to her team to back up and stay low. They shuffled back as the Marines and Spectres began to rush past to retake the mortar positions. Her breath stopped almost completely as more and more of them ran past. Each time a squad of them ran past, she prayed that they wouldn't look. Eventually, the lot of them stopped coming in and the sounds of the front grew louder as the patriots fought their way in with the support of the Vanguards.

She motioned her team to go the other way, away from the Grunts. As they slunk around the wall when they ran intoTitan right behind the building. From what she saw of it, it was the new Ogre variant that they'd been calling "Scorch". Lena halted her team and made an "O" with her fingers for Ogre. She pointed to Yants, the best Titan climber on their team to rodeo it. He nodded and scurried up the wall to get atop it.

They had to overcome this quickly and get to the Up Mart to take out as many of the observers and communications they could. Yants had pulled himself over the wall and jumped onto the Titan. Quickly breaking off it's casing, he began to fire directly at the manifold. The Titan shook and the Pilot inside released his electric smoke countermeasure.

"Yants!" Darragh gritted her teeth.

A moment later a badly burned Yants hit the ground lifeless. Enraged, Lena held out her hand to her other teammate for the last satchel charge. She gave it to her without comment and Lena stepped out as the smoke dissipated and threw the satchel charge dead center at the cockpit as the Scorch turned around. As soon as it stuck, she detonated it. The cover disconnected and slammed against the ground with a loud thud.

"I've lost my hatch. Ground units assist!" The IMC Pilot radioed for help.

Lena would not let them. She quickly boosted against the wall, onto the arm of the Scorch and then onto the cockpit. The silverback fumbled for his pistol to shoot her but she got there before he could draw it. He gave her kick in the stomach instead to push her back. She lost her grip on one side of the cockpit and recovered by throwing a punch into his helmet.

"Fuck!" he growled.

The silverback returned her punch with one at her chest. All he hit was her extra magazines and armor and she gripped his arm by the elbow and threw her other arm up to punch his head again. Behind her, the Scorch's arm waved around comically as the Titan tried to mirror it's linked Pilot's actions.

Darragh continued to hold herself steady as she continued to punch the man's helmet by relying on his seatbelt straps. Finally, bringing up his other hand from the stick, the IMC Pilot quickly landed a hit in her face. The blow hit her cheek, striking bone, and Lena clenched her teeth in pain. Pissed, she tried to pull her knife from it's scabbard but accidentally ripped the whole thing from her webbing. They both paused to look at it before Lena tried to beat him with it as a blunt object. She hammered it against his collarbone, hoping to break it or the scabbard.

He grappled her arm and two struggled to overpower the other. The IMC Pilot won by kneeing her gut again and knocking her away. Darragh hit the dirt and spat sand from her mouth. The IMC Pilot screamed as he meant to squash her with his Titan but gunfire rang out from her other teammate covering her. The Scorch brought its bulking arm up to shield the Pilot from the bullets.

"Fucking terrorists! I'm gonna burn you!" The Pilot yelled at them and readied his thermite launcher to fire.

Bursting to her feet, Lena ran to get under the Titan and grabbed one of the rails underneath to swing up. She twisted in air and grabbed on to another handhold. Lena made her way up the back of the Titan. She finally got over the top and yanked her Smart Pistol out and fired it manually into the IMC Pilot. His helmet cracked at the impact of the high-velocity rounds entered his skull. He slumped over in his seatbelt.

"Pilot KIA, entering Auto-Titan mode." The Betty OS voice inside stated calmly.

Darragh ignored the Titan as it began to link up with the rest of the IMC forces and pulled her gun on the exposed manifold and fired the rest of her clip into it. Then another and another but it wasn't enough. Holster her pistol she scrambled back over into the cockpit and looked for the silverback's rifle. The 101-C locked into the rack and she quickly pulled it out.

"Unknown Pilot on hull." The Titan stated.

She ignored it and tried to get back over the cockpit again when the Titan's hand grabbed her around the waist. Darragh let out a scream as she was pulled away from the cockpit in the Titan's hand. Still gripping the carbine, Lena fired at the controls to try and hit something before she was turned into jelly by the Titan's fist.

"Ocular systems nonfunctional. Cannot identify unknown Pilot."

The carbine ran dry and Lena tried one last desperate thing. She looked for the Titan's code on the sides. Darragh spotted it just under the cockpit, KSX-6843. Uji had told her that there was a factory reset code built into all Titans for maintenance and it was usually the Titan's name.

"Transfer authorization to new pilot!" Lena shouted at the Titan. "Link Kilo Sierra X-ray, Six-Eight-Four-Three!"

"Voice unknown. Please state name and rank."

"Lena Darragh – Pilot!" She added quickly.

"Understood. Manual mode restored. Welcome Pilot."

Lena breathed a huge sigh of relief as the Scorch brought her back gently to the cockpit. "Holy shit, I can't believe that worked..."

Taking a few more breathes she unbuckled the silverback from his seat and tossed aside and took the seat. Lena ran a hand through her hair and tugged her scarf down to be less tight. After that, she quickly scanned for her other teammate.

"Zandy! Let's go!"

When Zandy didn't respond, Lena spotted what was a burned remain and moved on. There was no time to grieve while Harmony needed to be saved. If they won this battle then they could remember the dead.

"Uji!" Lena called out over the radio. "My team's down but I'm in control of an enemy Scorch without a hatch!"

"No hatch, got it." He said. "Can you continue the mission?"

"Of course."

Lena raised the thermite launcher and fired at the Tiffany's Coffee. Her aim was too low and the canister hit the side of the building instead, spilling it's contents all over the wall. The Titan began reloading the next canister and she fired again. This time the extra munitions inside the cafe exploded.

"Good, make your way to the mortar pit, we'll link up there." Uji told her.

"Got it."

The road went back the way she came and then turned to the left. She wheeled the Titan around the corner to see Uji and the rest of the Vanguards already there. Several of the patriots quickly drew their weapons at the sight of the IMC Titan coming towards them but Uji quickly extended his Titan's hands out.

"Hold fire! It's Master-Pilot Darragh!"

The patriots put their weapons down reluctantly and Lena hoisted the thermite launcher above her Titan's cockpit. The two Master-Pilots strode their Titans towards each other and Uji opened his cockpit so they could talk face to face.

"Report." Uji demanded.

"I lost my team after we took the mortar pit. We can have the intel teams strip this one for parts and intel." She answered.

"Alright." Uji's Titan collected a Quad-Launcher from the deck and slammed in a fresh pod. "The Vanguards will take it from here. Give your Titan's weapon to Brant."

Lena handed her thermite launcher to Brant's Titan who put his XO-16 on his Titan's back. Next, she unclipped the extra canisters from her Titan's webbing and handed those off as well. Darragh had no intention to stop fighting, once the Titan was with the intel teams she'd join a patriot group headed back into the city.

"Lena," Uji said pulling her back from her thoughts, "you've been inside Nexus. What's the resistance like?"

"Dug in infantry and Titan's lying in wait. They must've known we'd get in eventually."

"Good. Vanguards! Let's go prove our name!"

Lena watched as the Vanguards buttoned up their hatches and followed their leader into the city. The patriots followed some distance behind, carefully picking their way over obstacles the Titan's easily bipassed. After a moment, Lena lead the Titan to the rear.

The fields were churned with upended aircraft, craters, ruined Titans, and bodies. Lots of bodies. She was struck but just how many the IMC had killed and this was since she joined the Forth. _The battle hasn't been won yet._ Darragh reminded herself and she pressed on until she reached the next active line.

A ruined Ogre with poor camouflage netting greeted her when she arrived at the bunker. It's 40mm cannon was propped up on a makeshift bipod made from logs. It's camera shifted towards her and ruined Scorch.

"Password?" The sentry demanded.

"Broadlake." She answered.

"Come on in." The Ogre beckoned with it's free hand.

Darragh entered into the large muddy courtyard of the rear lines as she made her way down a ramp. The courtyard was practically empty and almost eerily silent as the sounds of battle echoed behind her. It was as if the world was holding it's breath.

"Hey! Pilot!" A man approached.

He was a mechanic dressed in the IMC maintenance grays with the sleeves tied around his waist. A wide brimmed straw hat shaded most of his face. Lena was pleased with how quickly she could hand off this Titan.

She sat up in the cockpit bracing a hand against the inner lip. "Yeah?"

"Where the hell are you going with that thing, huh?"

"You a mechanic?"

Darragh stepped off the cockpit, catching the bottom lip and then letting herself drop to the ground. She landed with a squelch in the mud. The mechanic arched an eyebrow and folded his arms.

"You could say that."

"Can you get the intel teams to pull this Titan apart?" It was a question she framed as an order.

"Hmph. You saying you captured this thing?"

"Yeah."

He cocked his head looking at her shoulder and saw her badge. The mechanic nodded and grunted to himself. Without a word he went over to the beat up Scorch and patted it's leg joints. Knocked on a few panels here and there.

"Well," he said after a minute, "I expect you'd be wanting to get back to the front?" Lena nodded.

Minutes later, she'd joined a group of patriots headed towards the front in a reconfigured Samson truck. This was one of the few transport types they were able to capture that wasn't just a roll of tarp over the top. The wheels bumped and the truck rocked back and forth through the muddy track.

"Master Pilot." The Journey-Man in charge of the team grabbed her attention.

"What?" She replied coldly as she opened the breach of her newly acquired Carbine.

"What's it like in Nexus?"

She pulled out the magazine and examined it for grit and dirt. "Bad. They're dug in hard."

"Well we're happy to have you along with us."

"I won't be with you long. I plan to make my way to the Vanguard." Lena slapped the mag back in after she was satisfied

"That's crazy." A patriot commented.

His Journey-Man glared at him. "Anything you can do for us would be much appreciated."

"Whatever I do," She looked up at the Journey-Man, "I do for Harmony."

 _For Harmony._ A few of the patriots repeated. The Journey-Man nodded and turned around in his seat. They soon arrived at the front. The Samson had delivered them near the north-eastern side of Nexus. As they hopped out the back, a pair of Phantoms scored the frontline with chaingun fire. Their attack ripped apart a group of patriots working their way up a slope. Following just behind an IMC Bomber lumbered over; it's bomb bay doors opened.

"Take cover! Take cover!" Shouts rang out as the first of the bombs screamed towards the earth.

Ground erupted and rubble was thrown as the bombs tore apart the earth. The trail of bombs devastated a trail starting from just inside Nexus and pulling towards the mortar pit just out of town. Some of the patriots who hadn't dove for cover fired their weapons in vain at the Bomber as it veered back into the atmosphere.

"You want to do Harmony a favor?" The Journey-Man said next to her. "Stop that from happening again."

Lena patted her arm right on her group's patch. He grunted and then ordered his team to move out. As they left Darragh looked over toward the mortar pit her team had come from. Trailing out of it men and women, patriots and doctors, dead and alive. The IMC had bombed an aid station. Even when they were almost beat they still tried to inflict as much damage as possible on them. Lena took a deep inhale and started into the city.

Nexus was almost unrecognizable from what it was this morning. Craters had reformed the roads into streams connecting puddles to puddles. Titans had torn down buildings reshaping Nexus into knives stabbing the sky. Everywhere else was painted with black, red, and mixes of grays. Fires raged throughout Nexus turning it to scorched blackness as bodies measured the progress of the patriots pushing their way into the city.

She picked her way over a crater and slid down the muddy embankment into a puddle. The water came up to her shins. Lena looked up from her feet to the ruptured irrigation pipe. They must've been pumping water in for their troops, it wasn't like there were any crops to water anymore. Not that the IMC cared that they starved.

Using the pipe as a foothold, she pulled her way out of the crater and back onto the road. Just up ahead, the collapsed farmer's market were a group of patriots being assisted by a Pilot and his Titan. Running in a crouch, she regrouped with these patriots.

"Another Pilot, good." The Pilot stated simply.

"Lena Darragh, Fourth Pioneers." She reported.

"The Bloody Fourth, even better. I've got a job for your particular talents."

"Tell me."

"There's an AA gun near here that the IMC are using to shred our Titans. It's heavily defended but with the two of us, it should be a even fight." He chuckled under his helmet.

"Show me." Lena fished a map out from under her armor and smoothed it out against his Titan's leg.

"Here." he tapped the roof garden near the center of the map. "You take the roofs, me and Jon will cover you."

"Jon?" Lena looked about for another Pilot.

"This is Jon." the Pilot patted his Titan's leg. "Named him after my dog. And I'm Cal with the Vanguards."

"Where's Master- Pilot Uji?" Lena refolded the map and tucked it back away.

"Other side, pinned by Titans."

"Okay, right. The fastest route would be through the courtyard there but..."

"Right, the building's in the way." Cal thumbed towards the collapsed farmer's market, "The IMC detonated it to slow our progress while they evacuate. We'll have to cut back around Upmart and take the alleyways."

"That's a bad idea." Lena shook her head. "It's too narrow and your Titan won't have any cover."

"Don't worry about us. Jon and I got your back."

"Fine. Give me your knife, I lost mine."

"Sure, here." Cal pulled his from his sheath and handed it to her.

"Thanks. Use freq 776."

"Got it. Let's go."

She tucked the data-knife under one of the straps on her armor as the man got back into his Titan. Lena took off into a run and boosted towards into a window. The Upmart top floor was still littered with debris and pock marks of all different sizes. Patriots were already inside, mostly wounded and others took cover below windows. Some of them stirred and whispered reverently about the Pilot in their midsts.

As Lena made her way to the other side, Cal's Titan Jon pushed besides them as it fought it's way to the alley. The AA gun opened up immediately raining fire in his direction. Jon deployed his Vortex to absorb some of the blow but his shield wasn't strong enough and the arm took some of the damage. She exited another window directly into the alleyway as Jon crashed into a building. Jon's left arm was mangled and sparking.

"It's fine, keep going!" Cal urged them onwards.

Lena leapt onto Cal's Titan and then boosted onto the walls. Her jumpkit propelling her across the ruined terrain. Just behind her she could hear Jon keeping pace. Suddenly, near the garden several silhouettes emerged with anti-titan weapons drawn.

Darragh kept pushing forward, using her carbine to shoot as many of the IMC as possible before they opened fire. The speed she was going made her shots fall wide and many missed their mark. Some of the Silverbacks fell but the rest opened up with Sidewinders. The small micro-missiles zipped all around her as she jumped back and forth. A 40 Millimeter round flew past her and punched a hole where the Marines once stood. Darragh kept going, even as she heard the Titan behind her collapse.

She made it to the end of the alley but a quick glance back at Cal revealed his Titan's badly damaged chassis leaning against the wall, dark. Cal had gotten her this far, she could make it the rest of the way. Lena boosted over the top of the roof, carbine in hand. Several IMC Marines were already rushing to meet her head on but she was ready.

The carbine ripped out lead in her hand as she cut the first of the Marines down. Using her momentum she kept running towards a billboard for cover. Once against the billboard, she flicked the dry magazine away and slapped in a new one. Bullets slammed against the billboard but she faked right but came out on her left, surprising the Silverbacks. She got the drop on the last three by the turret.

Lena strode towards the turret, her objective in sight, she slipped the data-knife out and spun it around in her hand. A Silverback appeared from behind the spider mount with an R-97. She gasped and dropped into a slide. As she did so, pistol shots racked the man with bullets sending him to the deck.

She turned to see Cal there just pulling himself over the edge. Lena nodded and quickly picked up her knife and jammed it into the override of the turret. Blue circles popped up from the top of the knife and slowly turned orange and collapsed onto each other as the Data-knife did it's job. The turret folded back in as it's target reset before it popped back out.

The turret snapped towards the IMC's landing pad and ripped apart the ascending Goblin. It's ordinance detonated engulfing the top of the building. After that, Lena couldn't hear anymore as the turret's loud reports deafened her ears. Unaware of the situation, several IMC Phantoms and Bombers were struck from the sky.

Cal suddenly appeared at her side and pointed up at the sky. She saw in high orbit the IMC ships plot in vectors and jump from the planet, stranding the remaining IMC on the planet below. Lena shouted with joy. She couldn't hear herself shout but she felt her throat rasp as she tried to shout over the sound of the turret.

To her left, Uji and his Vanguards over ran the landing pad cheering and waving as the last of the IMC were finished off inside Nexus. Soon after, the IMC broke as their two main strongholds were lost and patriots swarmed through the city. The turret stopped firing and Lena smiled with abandon. Finally, after six years, not an IMC ship was in the sky.


	3. Chapter 2 - Bish

"All Quiet On The Frontier"

Yuma System

MCS Annapolis

2212, October 26th

* * *

"Today, we have pushed the IMC forces from the planet Harmony."

An older man said dressed in worn political attire. He stood surrounded by groups of people of all kinds; farmers, guerrillas, workers, parents. All the breadth of the people of Harmony. Bish saw their eyes look towards the screen with pride.

"It was no easy task, but they could not resist our willingness or our determination to fight. Harmony is once again a free planet. This broadcast goes out to the Frontier Militia and the Coalition they represent. We have ousted a common aggressor and in so doing have earned their full attention.

"The citizens of Harmony now turn to you for cooperation in fighting the IMC. I, Noah Greene, Magistrate of Harmony, offer the Coalition of the Frontier a mutual arrangement. Your ships patrol our skies, and in return we can supply you with a place to rest and refuel.

"Now, understand, we did not oust the IMC just to have them be replaced. Harmony's sovereignty shall not be infringed upon. We shall give you a week's time to respond. Thank you and good speed."

Bish terminated the broadcast and turned to face the rest of the CIC. Commander Sarah Briggs grinned while Field Commander Marcus Graves nodded pleased with the progress. The rest of the room was filled with top commanders from the Special Recon Squadron and other departments. In the months following the assault on Demeter, and the their campaign on Spyglass' Spectre facilities, Graves' strategy was finally seeing fruit.

"Did you see those Titans in the background?" Someone asked.

"Yeah, they looked like they were made of spare parts." Another answered.

"That's pretty accurate," Bish confirmed, "our current intelligence has identified them as 'Vanguards.' Whether or not they were named after the First Division or the other way around, we're not sure. What we are sure of is that the Vanguards are designed to overcome most situations."

"How's that?" Sarah asked.

"Flexibility. The design of the Titans from what R and D has told me is based on the Atlas chassis with major improvements and capacity. Take this shot here for example."

Bish brought up on the holo-board a still holographic image of a Vanguard. Everyone in the room turned to look at the board as Bish took center stage. He enjoyed being the only one in the room with all the information.

"See here and here," he pointed to the arm joints and rear armor, "structurally enhanced for heavier loads and equipment."

"So what? Even a Stryder can carry a 40 mil or a Quad-Launcher." Someone commented.

"Right. What you're seeing here is designs for multiple weapons systems to be carried at once. So your 40 mil and Quad-Launcher on your back."

"And that's not Hammond tech is it?" Graves asked.

Bish grinned, "One-hundred percent pure Frontier innovation."

"Incredible," Graves said with awe, "and they're just farmers?"

"A little more than that but yeah. Harmony was an agricultural planet in a quiet sector for the IMC."

"A sector they just lost." Sarah added.

"True but..." Graves punched in some commands into the holo-board and the interface reconfigured into a huge map of the Frontier that hovered above the group. Graves brought up the colored map showing the current held sectors of the Frontier. The majority of the spherical map was in silver light with small specks of green to denote Militia holdings.

"That makes no sense. Why would they let themselves lose a sector? Unless, there's a benefit to that? Where's the Remnant Fleet during all this?"

Bish understood what he was saying. It was Graves' belief that Spyglass was the puppet of Hammond to control the Frontier and by extension the Core by holding all the resources it needed. The idea scared Bish more than he could say but not everyone believed it. Sarah thought it was too vague and that the atrocities the IMC had committed should be motivation enough. So far, Graves' plans had worked allowing other planets to break free of the IMC's grasp, so no one really complained.

"No one knows." Bish finally told him.

It was true, in the months following their attack on the Hammond headquarters in the Columbia system, no one had any idea where the remnants of the Demeter Fleet had gone. During that time, Remnants of the Demeter fleet had shortened to just Remnant Fleet.

"I find that hard to believe." Graves responded.

"IMC comm traffic all over the Frontier has been asking the same question. They still receive directives from him but where he is and where the rest of the Remnant Fleet is, no one knows."

Bish pulled a few of the directives to show the room. Directive two flashed on the board, was a restructure of all current fleets. Directive eight replaced it, stating the new IMC Bonehead logo was to be changed to one that looked melted. Directive thirteen was an instruction on new Titan designs to compensate for a battle lost.

Graves clutched his temple turning away from the board, "You're telling us that the head of the entire IMC command is no where to be found."

"Right now – yeah."

"Well, what about that ship Tyranis? It was carrying high value cargo, where did it run off to?"

"Sarah?" Bish looked towards her from across the holo-board.

She shook her head, "After we tracked it to the Columbia system, it slipped away from us just around the heliosphere when the battle started."

"Can we plot a possible destination from it's trajectory?" Graves prodded.

"Well," Sarah linked her wrist-comm to the holo-board and outlined the possible routes, "the closest jump from the Columbia system is the Hastings System or the Lawton System. From there it dramatically increases and since IMC space is so vast. There's no telling where it could've gone after it's jump."

As she spoke, more and more systems connected together with bright yellow lines branching out from the Columbia system. By the time the projection had finished, the yellow lines connected to most of IMC space. Bish gave an impressed whistle.

"Right. Well then," Graves began to outline their new objectives, "let's focus on what we have in front of us. Get in contact with Harmony and plot us a nav-point. He wants cooperation and those Vanguards could provide useful."

"What about the Coalition? They'll want to be informed about another member joining." Bish pointed out.

Graves sighed, and with good reason. The Coalition of the Frontier, or Frontier Coalition for short, was a fledgling government body of multiple planets joining together against the IMC under the protective watch of Marcus Graves. A few friendly corporations had been allowed to enter too, namely Kodai Mining, whose efforts went back to the start of the insurrection. Despite a common enemy, the Coalition was laborious and slow to agree on any decisions. Adding Harmony to that mix might just make things worse.

"Let the politicians sort it out," Graves punched in Harmony's coordinates on the holo-board, "I want those Vanguards."

Strangely for Bish, since their assault on Demeter, he'd taken up more of a political role in all this. Apparently, most people nowadays remember him for getting MacAllan than anything else. Furthermore, with Sarah on the ground and Graves doing strategy, Bish had become more of the "face" of the Militia. It was sure as hell a long way from his IT days.

"I'll let them know with so many words." Bish said punching a note into his wrist-comm.

"Good. I want all commanders to report their current troop strengths and supplies levels before our next offensive period. Dismissed."

"You know, they've been asking for you again." Bish said to Graves after everyone had left the CIC.

Graves clutched his temples, "And I thought the IMC was rife with politics."

"There's a lot your presence could do to put them at ease." Bish told him.

"I've reduced the number of Spectre facilities, given them IMC strategies for the commander initiative, gained considerable space in the following months, what more could they want? All they want to do is put me behind a podium or behind bars. I've no interest in either."

"You can't expect all these groups not to worry. The entire Militia is under your control and since the Coalition was formed you haven't been seen once." He tried to explain.

"Commander Cheng, I understand your concerns but if the council really wants to talk to someone, go yourself. You've a knack for politics."

"I agree with you," Bish said as he scratched his cheek, "but I'm already known as the guy who brought in Mac. You though..."

Graves looked him squarely in the eyes, "I've given my orders."

"Understood, boss." Bish nodded, informally but still with respect as he turned to go.

Bish left the CIC now with new problems. Since when did he become the negotiator in all this? _When you went out on a limb to meet MacAllan._ An internal thought reminded him. That earned a sigh as Bish pressed the button on the lift still lost in thought of days gone by. It was amazing how much the Frontier had changed – and how much it hadn't. Despite all the battles they've won they were still at war with the IMC. Almost everyday new reports came in on new planets lost. Despite the influx of human numbers to their side by disgruntled IMC, the Interstellar Mining Corporation was still a huge threat to...

"Hey, Bish!" A man's voice called to him.

Bish looked up from the floor of the lift and finally realized the elevator had stopped on engineering. That was right, he still had to check in with R and D. He shook his head and left the lift. The man in front of him was a Titan engineer with his uniform covered in grease stains a trademark of Mr. Emslie, head of Titan development.

"Emslie, hey!" Bish said returning the man's wave.

"I've been looking over the Vanguard photo designs since we last talked." Emslie said loudly over the noise of the Titan bay.

Bish winced. That was still classified intel. By now everyone would've known why they were headed to Harmony, it didn't take advanced jump calculations to figure out why. Still, he'd like it if people weren't shouting it all over the place.

"Hey Emslie!" Bish called back over the noise.

"Yeah?"

"How about we talk about it in your office." Bish spun his finger to indicate all the people around.

"Oh yeah, sure!"

A minute later and they had climbed the stairs of the Titan bay into Emslie's office and the Titan engineer dropped into his ragged leather chair. His office, Bish noticed was a huge mess almost like Sarah's. The walls were covered with a myriad of pin-up posters of men and women, Titan schematics, vehicles of all kinds, and a few dart boards.

"Sorry about the mess, this is also sort of our break room." Emslie explained.

"There's a break room for this kind of thing elsewhere." Bish told him, "If Graves saw this..."

"I hear ya, Commander." Emslie replied, "but that break room is too far. I tell ya, I got motivated people down there that don't want to leave sometimes. Some of 'em sleep next to their babies."

Bish tried not to show that he was a little weirded out by that but no less appreciative of engineering's hard work. So he choose to change the topic.

"So what's this about the Vanguard design?"

"Oh yeah. That design to carry a heavier chassis. Well, the current Atlas design doesn't have the exact weight capacity to maintain it's boost ratio. If you load too much on it, it might as well be an Ogre? You understand."

"Sure," Bish replied. Emslie had so far not gone too far out of his range.

"Right, so, I was thinkin' how did they get around that? Stronger boosters seemed like the good first step. Well, if you look here on this one frame. You can jus' make out that the rear plate booster isn't there."

"There is a booster there though in the center." Bish pointed out.

"Yes, exactly. It's a fundamental reworking of the Scorch variant."

"Okay but how?"

Emslie scratched his head and agitatedly looked about his desk for a way to make an example for his Commander. Snatching a tablet off his desk he opened up a drafting app and began to sketch roughly the booster designs of the current four Titans.

"Stryder, light highly mobile, see the wheels on the feet?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so on the Ogre and by extension the Scorch, the central output is huge on the main body to compensate for the increased weight."

Bish nodded.

"But on the Scorch, see these?" Emslie pointed to the huge intakes on the side.

"They look like jet engines."

"Give the man a prize! They're exactly that. See the IMC found a way to lift the heavier Scorch type off the ground by increasing the thrust of its boosters!" Emslie gave Bish a huge excited look like Bish should've figured it out. Sadly, Bish hadn't.

"So?"

"So! You put those thrusters on a Vanguard and you get a highly mobile platform to compensate for the increased carrying capacity! Hell, you could strap on some rocket pods without any fear of overloading it!"

"Ah."

"Commander, I'd be very excited to get my hands on those Titans and do some redesigns."

"Well," Bish nodded emphatically, "You'll have to speak to Sarah about that."

"Oh okay, sure. You all right?"

Bish was rubbing his eyes to get rid of some of the dryness, "Yeah, just a lot to think about these days."

"I hear ya. Well, I've taken up enough of your time, Commander. Stop by anytime."

"Will do, Emslie."

Bish plied himself back to his quarters. He'd accomplished a lot today and desperately wanted to unwind. Finding his way into his desk chair, Bish fired up his console and began to punch out the message to the Coalition Council on their plans to invite Harmony into the fold. Once, he'd finished the message, he had to encode it through a special encryption which took a while to complete.

While that was processing, Bish started back up on the coding of a new hacking program. Bish turned up the ambient music in his ears to drown out the day. It was going well and the encoding on the Council message was nearly complete when a pair of hands clasped his shoulders.

"Jesus!" Bish started and quickly whirled around to see Sarah laughing. "Hey. Not funny!"

"I dunno, it kinda was." She said and then by way of an apology pulled a flask from her back pocket.

Bish recognized the flask right away. Detailed on the metal was Barker's Brewing Company. That guy certainly had a way with alcohol. Sarah unscrewed the lid and offered it to Bish. He took a pull and handed it back to Sarah.

"So, whatcha doing down here?" Bish asked.

"Same as you, looking to get away for a little bit."

"I hear that. What're you looking to avoid?"

"Ops reports and we start up a new round of trainees this week."

"How they lookin'?"

"We'll see," Sarah took a long pull on the flask, "they're the first ex-IMC we've allowed into the SRS. They've commanded Grunts and have helped with breaking IMC facilities. So this is the next step in making them better Pilots."

"They trustworthy?"

"Trust me, Bish, I'm a pretty good judge of character."

Bish laughed, "No complaints here."

"So how about you? What's eating you lately?" She handed him back the flask.

He sighed, a heavier one than he intended. "Council business."

"That bad?"

Bish took an even longer pull than Sarah, "Mm. Yeah. Still trying to work Graves down to see the Council. Besides that, Emslie down in Titan development has some ideas on the Vanguards. I've thrown him your way, since stealing secrets is the SRS' job. And after that, standard stuff that falls to me, like your fun stuff medical reports, leave requests, council updates, security updates, the works."

"Sounds like you need that flask more than me." Sarah said.

"Thanks." Bish knocked back the flask and relaxed into his chair.

The drink warmed his chest and tingled his throat. It was so strong that a yawn escaped him. Bish let it all come out as he relaxed. Sarah crossed her arms and smirked.

"You're a tired man, Bish."

"Yup. Hey, thanks for the drink."

"Don't mention it."

An chime went off and Bish lazily turned back to his console. His encoding of the council message was finished and Bish went through the checklist of making sure it was all good. Just as he was about to send it he stopped and turned back around.

"Better not send it just yet."

"Up to you."

"Sarah," Bish thought about asking her about Graves and if he should see the Council or not but then thought it better not to, "never mind. Thanks again."

"You bet." Sarah gave a little wave with her fingers and left.

Bish watched her go before sliding his headphones back on. There wasn't any hurry in sending the message off to the Council, he'd enjoy Barker's brew for a little longer. Nodding to the music, Bish typed a command to lock his door and turned the music up higher. Letting the clacking of his keys and the beats merge together.


	4. Chapter 3 - Corbyn

"A House Divided"

Columbia System

IMS Hercules

2212, November 5th

* * *

It was a splendid segue into one of Bach's harpsichords. The orchestra they had brought from Tau Ceti was certainly living up to their well deserved reputation. If anything displayed how good things come from the Core Systems it was this orchestra right now. Tanvir Corbyn hummed delightedly to the tune.

Captain Xu was playing the aloof host and no one could blame her. To be in the presence of so many IMC elite had to be daunting. However, Corbyn was particularly happy of the fact that there was not a single Marvin in the room. This year's Officer's Gala had been meticulously planned to be catered only by humans. The recent events practically demanded they do so. With the loss of Demeter and her gateway, the numerous Spectre facilities, and most recently the embarrassing defeat on Harmony. No, this Officer's Gala was a way to unwind from the recent headaches on the Frontier.

Corbyn stood atop the staircase and watched the crowds partaking in the festivities. A hand slipped around his waist and Tanvir turned to his wife, Natalia. She was almost as dressed up as he was. The plunging neckline of her evening gown was nowhere near as tight as his collar. His dress uniform was a bright white with silver accents designating him as part of the Colonial Navy. Natalia's dress on the other hand, was a gorgeous shade of ocean blue that brought out her piercing blue eyes and boasted excessive amounts of billowing frills like rolling waves or at least was the designer's intention.

"Oh look, darling, its that boor." She smiled before planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hmph." Tanvir scoffed as he saw whom his wife was referring to.

Among a sea of white uniformed Naval man was a few scientists in their civilian tuxs but a few other elite Generals stood in their dark grey uniforms. One particular General, was the leader of the ARES Division himself, General Marder. Tanvir sighed. Marder was no doubt looking for interested patrons in his newest patch of dirt.

"Here I had hoped he'd not take his invitation seriously." He quipped.

"You don't supposed he won't try asking for more credits, do you?" Natalia arched an eyebrow. _Like a beggar._ Her face said to him.

"Of course he will." Tanvir said disgusted but forced a smile and offered his arm to his wife.

She gave him an amused smile and accepted his arm, her other hand holding up her dress as they began to descend the stairs. He was set upon not having his night ruined by dull talk of rocks and archeological curiosities. There was no time and place for those things and tonight him and his wife were looking for something particular.

There was a reason why they had assembled the Gala here in the Columbia System on the _Hercules_. Why there were no machines present in the hanger turned ball room. Why the gala was held on the ship formerly held by Hammond's dog. In the system, where they had halted Graves' post-Demeter offensive. Victory. No omen bore as much hope and despair to those who tried to achieve it.

Midway down the stairs, Tanvir spotted another man in a dark grey uniform, General Auchenburg commander of the failed Harmony campaign. He was surrounded by several equally vacuous persons all sympathetic to his plight. Auchenburg had relied quite hard on the reinforcements from the Spectre facilities and was forced to abandon his campaign when all failed. Tanvir had read the reports on the campaign with a certain degree of schadenfreude.

They reached the end of the staircase and a attendant made a slight bow, which the two of them returned with a polite nod. Through the throngs, a thin black haired man appeared with his arms extended towards Tanvir. Admiral Trevelyan, Tanvir recognized him immediately and was placated to see him.

"Tanvir!" Trevelyan grinned.

"Francis, how good to see you." They shook hands vigorously.

"Good to see you TC. Ahh, Lady Corbyn, you look lovely this evening."

Tanvir caught Trevelyan's eyes flicked over his wife's body to her face. She, of course, was use to such things and made no mind of it, her dress was meant to catch attention. Tanvir was secretly disappointed by Francis. The dress wasn't made to catch his eyes.

"I've yet to get a glass in hand, so as well as one could expect sober." Natalia bantered.

"True," Trevelyan chuckled then tured to Tanvir, "you saw that Marder is here?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Tanvir allowed his discomfort to show.

"Heh heh, well, he's on about how human life is ultimately expendable or some such."

"That's rather odd." Natalia commented.

"Oh not our lives surely," Francis laughed, "the Militia's of course!"

"So, tell me, Francis, who is of note here today?" Admiral Corbyn steered the conversation.

"Ah, well there's Tarleton. Planetary-Governor of Angel City, very excited about his new Titan OS. Auchenburg is here from his Harmony debacle. Recuperating as it were. There are notable others, of course, but the big question everyone wants to know is where our Vice-Admiral has gone."

"Don't we all." Corbyn said unremarkably but inside he was quite thrilled to hear it.

"Yes, I think the sooner we can find out where it took a large portion of our fleet, we'd all be the better for it." Francis stated mostly it seemed for his own benefit to hear.

"Oh, Tanvir," Natalia interupted, "I think I see Katie. Can I leave you alone for a minute?"

Tanvir smiled and gave his wife a peck on the cheek, "But I'm not alone am I, dear? Francis is here."

"Oh but of course." She laughed and made her way through the crowd.

Tanvir was acutely aware that Francis was watching his wife's departure more keenly than he was. Usually, Francis wasn't so obvious but clearly the gala had emboldened him. Corbyn threw an arm around his old friend's shoulder and gave it tight squeeze.

"Well come, Francis! What festivities are on tonight?"

Francis cleared his throat and managed a grin. "Same interests?"

Tanvir smirked and made a throaty chuckle. "Always."

Francis this time did laugh naturally and took his hand. He led Tanvir towards the bar counter. It was impressive stocked and modernly designed.

"Nicholas!" Francis said familiarly.

The bartender with an excellent auburn mustache turned to him with an eyebrow cocked. "Admiral Trevelyan, another sherry?"

"Or a blonde if you have one back there." Francis laughed.

Tanvir wanted to throttle him but laughed instead. "You dog!"

"Just like old times, eh?"

Nicholas set another glass of sherry on the counter and turned towards Tanvir, "And you, sir?"

"Do you have anything from early Pioneer days?"

"A taste of home, huh?" Nicholas smirked. "I do indeed, sir."

He went to a fridge behind him and pulled out a deep red bottle. Tanvir noted that the bottle was such a deep red that it was almost black. A fitting tribute to his own soul.

"This," Nicholas continued, "is a Pinot Noir from New Zealand, a '92 as a matter of fact."

Tanvir frowned and hummed his approval. Nicholas poured a small amount into a glass and offered it to Corbyn to taste. He took it and put the glass under his nose to smell it. The aroma was like soil and that was enough to remind him of Earth and home.

"Beautiful. That was exactly what I was looking for. Um..." Tanvir had forgotten the man's name.

"Nicholas, sir." The bartender made a respectful bow.

"A pleasure, Nicholas."

The Francis and Tanvir departed the bar in search of conversation and Francis steered them to a group around Planetary-Governor Tarleton. They arrived just as he was revealing his new plans for Angel City.

"... thus the SID program will be instituted by next year. Naturally, Pilots will be deployed to the Harbor district. Such widespread riots will never happen again."

"I should hope not." An older woman with a stuck up nose commented.

"Don't worry, Graves will think twice next time about coming to Tarleton's Quarter again."

Tanvir almost let a scoff escape from his mouth. Governor Tarleton had coined the phrase to denote that he governed a quarter of the planet; namely the quarter Angel City rested in. He was another political man with deep Hammond ties. Corbyn knew that made him a Loyalist by default but naturally would support anyone who granted him political favor.

"Governor." Francis greeted him politely.

"Admirals. I was just explaining the new SID program. I think you would find it quite appealing for Military application."

"Pray, please continue." Tanvir returned the floor to Tarleton.

"Very gracious of you," Tarleton smiled in his rehearsed way as if in one of his adverts, "well as I said, SID stands for 'Subjugate, Intimidate, and Destroy'. As I no doubt showed during the riots. Trade must continue to our Hammond Robotics facilities."

"No quarter in Tarleton's Quarter then?" Tanvir chuckled.

"No mercy as a matter of fact, Admiral. But who's to say, that isn't as catchy, hmm?" Tartleton giggled.

 _Heavy handed._ Corbyn corrected the governor internally. Francis and him exchanged a knowing look, as the governor continued his explanation on how stalwart he was in ordering the garrison in putting down suspected insurgents. He didn't do any real fighting. That, as everyone knew, was left to Spyglass' stooge, Blisk. It was uncanny how some people's reputations survive even after being associated with as large a traitor as Graves. If there ever was a face of loyalty, Blisk certainly was it.

After a spell, the circle around Tarleton broke and reformed elsewhere as they all excused themselves for another reason or another. That was perfectly natural. Being the nobility on the Frontier, they all had to constantly had to be seen making appearances with influential people. This however meant that he was confronted with General Marder. _What poor luck!_

"Admiral Corbyn, Trevelyan. I was hoping to speak with you." Marder said, all business.

"Still digging in the dirt, eh Marder?" Francis said with a smirk.

Marder brushed off the comment as one does with Francis. Tanvir found himself liking Marder just a modicum.

"New developments don't always come from labs now do they? Wouldn't you agree Admiral Corbyn?"

"Oh surely." Corbyn said.

"Ah, I think I see someone I know." Francis said quickly and left.

Tanvir let his discomfort slip with a disgruntled snort as Francis made his untactful exit. Marder still stood there, his arms behind his back. _Not even a drink in hand, what poor form!_ He was just Charle's opposite in how to be awkward.

"It seems I've developed a poor reputation." Marder said, more observation than joke.

"Don't take it too personally, we've heard about your views on humanity."

Now Marder scoffed, "That was a statistical evaluation on human reproduction."

"Of course, it was! But Marder, do realize you are talking about human lives to humans."

Marder scowled but Tanvir knew that he was in the middle of "rebranding" since having human test subjects from Graves was precisely why his reputation was so poor these days. Corbyn's worry was how this conversation would affect him now that Francis had left him alone.

"I had thought that the IMC hierarchy would see my perspective."

"Oh? And which perspective is that, Marder?"

"That the Militia are hindering humanity's advancement."

"See Marder, that's the exact problem. You say human lives are expendable but also want humanity's advancement. They seem very different things." Tanvir shrugged.

Marder's frustration was evident on his features. "They aren't. The Dorsenists are just being reactionary. When there are millions of humans being born all over the Frontier and they worry about Spectres replacing them."

"Ah, now that's something we can agree upon." Tanvir rose his now room temperature glass to Marder, who managed at least a tired smile.

Dorsenists, "Ninty-oners", traditionalists, were just a few of the words that all described the anti-Spyglass feeling some in the IMC had. Though few had defected like Morrigan had with Graves. The remainder of his 1991st Support Group when they defected had spawned the term "to Ninty-one".

"Listen, Admiral," Marder said adopting a different tone, "I didn't come here to discuss politics."

 _As if anyone doesn't come here for that._ Tanvir thought snidely. "Oh, then what did you come here to discuss?"

"My research."

"Ahh, I see." Corbyn took a sip of his wine.

"We're making great strides in deciphering the ruins on Typhon. However, archeology is a costly venture and..."

Tanvir slowly raised his hand, "You spoke of research. Tell me then, what results have you delivered to your current investors? What discoveries?"

Marder's eyes narrowed. "If you would just look at some of the holos of the dig site, you might..."

"I'm sorry, General," Tanvir interrupted him again, "but without someone I trust, I simply cannot. Excuse me."

Tanvir left Marder alone on the floor. _Damn Francis for leaving him alone. What has gotten into that man?_ His first thought was to charge back to the bar to calm himself down but was stopped by a small hand resting on his back. He turned a little too quickly, which was revealing of how rattled he was, when he saw his wife there.

"There you are darling. Why you absolutely put out!" She smiled as she rested her other hand on his cheek.

Tanvir collected himself before he started fuming. "Forgive me."

"It's only natural." She stood up on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"If I didn't..." He began but she placed her thumb over his lips. She stared into his eyes and he understood what she said without a single word. He had almost spoke of their plan aloud. Where would he be without such a calm genius by his side?

"I heard a wonderful story from Katie." She said finally.

"Oh?" Corbyn answered as she removed her thumb.

"That there's a former Core Systems General at the card tables."

"Oh, and?"

"I believe he's down on his luck."

"Ah," Corbyn said, "that will do nicely."

"I thought you'd like that," Natalia echoed, "here let me show you."

Corbyn felt himself almost rejuvenated at his wife's words. She led him again through the crowds to a doorway at the end of the hanger. Natalia pushed a button on the door to open it and Corbyn was delighted by what he saw. Behind the doorway were more officers, sat around tables dealing cards and trading chips. His wife pulled his warm glass from his hand. Tanvir chuckled.

"Ah, so here they are." He saw as the other Generals and Admirals played backroom card games for rights to ships, fronts, sometimes planets.

She sipped the wine and looked pleased. "Oh, it's like home."

"Excellent, isn't it?"

"Very. I shall fetch you another."

"Oh, by the way dear," Corbyn suddenly remembered Francis' absence, "do be on the look out for poor Francis. He's acting quite unlike himself."

"You mean his normal self but just showing it."

"Yes, _that_."

"Don't worry, darling." She smiled devilishly.

Tanvir pulled her into a kiss, the taste of the wine still on her lips. _Flesh and soil._ He thought as their lips parted. His wife's inspiration clearly leaving an effect on him.

Natalia left the room and Tanvir took an open seat at one of the nearest tables. He recognized a few of the Admirals at the table and greeted them warmly. Closest to him was Admiral Stupoff from the naval academy of Mars. Next to him was Gurtz, a veteran of the Titan Wars, who saw action at the Tau Ceti gate battle.

"Stupoff, Gurtz! Pleasant to see you here."

"Ah, Korrbon!" Stupoff greeted him in his crisp Martian accent.

"Adrezzi," Corbyn shook Stupoff's hand.

"Come here ol' bean." Gurtz clapped Corbyn's shoulders and the two made cheek kisses.

"How are you Gurtz?" Tanvir asked.

"Better than Auchenburg, good god, that man looks positively dreadful! Beaten by farmers! Absolute tosh."

Tanvir smiled politely, "Very much so."

"Well, come, sit!" Gurtz pulled out a chair for him.

"Ah, Korrbon," Stupoff said, "this is General Dance formerly CSMC."

"Oh, Cee-Smack?" Tanvir said recalling his wife's words, "Now there's something I haven't heard in a while!"

The middle-aged Core Systems Marine Corps General smiled, "It seems we're a dying breed of sorts."

"Nonsense!" Gurtz said cheerfully. "Most CSMC make up a large portion of the Colonial Marine Corps. You're not a dying breed but a reinvented one!"

"That is true but sometimes I wonder what for." Dance admitted.

 _Natalia, you've done well!_ Tanvir was happy to see that there was perhaps another person who thought like him. He had found the right table for exactly what he was here for. He unbuttoned his dress jacket and sat next to Gurtz.

"So Stupoff, how goes your sector?" Tanvir asked.

"Ack," Stupoff made a noise as if to spit, "stagnant. Very boring. Militia attacks have almost completely stopped."

"Is that so?" Tanvir said curious.

"They were on the offensive end of August and then they drew their forces back gradually. Consolidating, I think."

"You see that a lot with insurgences." Dance commented as the cards were dealt.

Tanvir knew that this was a good vein of conversation that he could use to his advantage but the problem was staying in the game. So he had to manipulate both the people and the game and not reveal his intentions. _This should be fun._

The dealer resumed the game and dealt more cards to the group. Tanvir sat this round out as they played out the turn. Biding his time to restart the conversation again. When the round was finished, he bought his chips with his credit chit and was dealt a hand.

"So," he said casually, "Dance, what's your experience with the Militia?"

"Oh, I'm sure like everyone else's." He said distractedly.

"Frustrating?" Gurtz suggested.

"Boring?" Stupoff added.

Tanvir smiled, at least he could get those two to take his bait. Dance was hard to judge just yet but the more someone else asked the better. It would be less for him to reveal.

"No gentlemen, fulfilling." Dance answered tossing a few chips into the pot.

Gurtz looked incredulously at Dance but Tanvir was delighted by this development. If Dance was fulfilled by his duty as a soldier that would make his actions easy to predict but loyalty harder to place. Soldiers carried out orders but those with ambition or discontent might choose to break them. This gala was designed to bring out such intentions for Tanvir to find them.

"How so?" He asked, calling the amount.

Dance put his cards down to reveal his hand, but Stupoff grinned with his better hand and swept up the chips. Gurtz had folded and thus saved his money for another round. General Dance tossed in another chip and received his cards.

"I fill my pockets, those of my men and those of my people back home."

Stupoff smirked, "That's something I completely agree with."

If Stupoff was agreeing with Dance, that might present some idea of Dance's motive. Stupoff was notorious about the positive benefits of the private sector and a Loyalist to boot. It didn't matter who paid him as long as the credits came in. However, Stupoff would never say that his duty was fulfilling, in fact, quite the opposite.

So he tried a little tact, "Nothing wrong with duty as long as the dosh is good am I right?"

Dance's face to his surprise drew serious, "Duty died for me on Tau Ceti."

"Oh?" Corbyn said looking at his cards, "Left the old world behind, did you?"

His hand was good and so Tanvir decided to stay in the game and raised a little too. Dance did as well, even matching his raise. Gurtz matched too, but Stupoff folded, perhaps eager to hold onto his winnings.

"I dare say Corbyn, you're awfully interested in duty now aren't you?" Gurtz said.

The question was meant to rile him, probe him on his hand, distract him. His cards hardly mattered, intelligence did, and that was something Gurtz could not distract him from. However, his question did need an answer and so he gave one.

"Forgive me, I don't mean to spoil the mood," Corbyn said with false modesty, "but the times we're in seem to beg the question. With all these defections and changes in leadership, one can't help but talk about it."

"Corbyn, you and I both know that the less men there are on our side, the more money there is for the rest of us." Gurtz said slyly and raised him.

It was a good hand, but how he decided to proceed would depend on Dance. Matching Gurtz might scare off Dance or develop into a bad hand. Tanvir had to be careful with his next answer and get Dance talking again. Corbyn decided on a gamble.

"Not everyone signed on for money, you know. I'm sure the rare infantryman will tell you he cares about the Earth or even believes in the IMC's goal." Corbyn raised the ante and saw just a twitch of Dance's lip at his statement. That was all he needed to know. A discontented soldier who masked his pain with a desire for money. Very good, he could work with that. Even better was that he called as well.

"I didn't take you as a philosopher, Admiral." Dance said.

Tanvir gave him a polite nod as they revealed their cards. His hand swept the table, it was a killing, both Gurtz and Dance looked deeply upset. All the better, people reveal themselves when they're angry.

"Some might even say that sounds Dorsenist, Tanvir. Not planning on pulling a 'Ninety-One' are we?" Gurtz said bitterly.

Stupoff frowned, clearly not amused by Gurtz's joke or his gambit. "Please, let's not talk politics. Just for one night."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Tanvir soothed them as the next hand was dealt, "I apologize for any offense, truly, but these are our times."

"Yet only Naval folks seem to be the most upset with it." Dance quipped as he threw in some chips. The three Admirals all glared at Dance. The Colonial Marine General grinned sheepishly and laughed. "Don't be too salty, gentlemen. Dorsen was a naval man, and so was Graves."

"I've heard enough!" Stupoff declared and left the table.

"Ah, come on Adrezzi." Gurtz tried to get him back to the table but Stupoff stormed off.

"Don't worry about him, I'm sure he'll vent his frustration elsewhere." Tanvir slapped Gurtz on the back. "Ah, excellent!"

Natalia reappeared with a chilled glass of wine and handed it to her husband. Tanvir took a quick sip and placed it on the table. His wife placed her hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing circles. Tanvir showed her his hand carefully and smiled at her. She smiled back and took a deep drink from her glass.

The game played out as each of them raised and called each other. It finally came to a head when Gurtz finally won out, sapping the game from Dance and Tanvir. Gurtz looked quite pleased with himself.

"Gentlemen, I think that will satisfy me tonight." He said with a greedy laugh.

"Well played, Admiral." Dance politely bowed his head.

"Indeed, Gurtz. Well done." Tanvir complimented him. "General Dance, perhaps you'd like to join me in a week? I'd very much like to show you some actual naval hospitality."

"I'll consider it, Admiral." Dance said as he lit up a cigar.

"Glad to hear it. Natalia?" He offered his wife his arm again as the Dealer cashed out his earning and uploaded the credits to his wrist-comm. After they left the room, he inclined his head to his wife, "Dance was a good find."

She inclined her head against his and smiled as if he had told her something sweet. Natalia gently brushed her hip against his in their own prearranged signal. Brush up for yes, move away for no. It worked very well, for the body language was obvious but only socially so. It was all prearranged functions between two persons that it would be hard to tell if there was a secret meaning to it at all.

"When you finish your wine, dear, I'd like to dance." Natalia instructed him.

"Yes, of course. And did...?" Corbyn trailed off not wanting to say the words out loud.

She sighed, "Oh no. Not a peep."

"Good." Corbyn said but then the music changed. Bach's "Gavotte en Rondo" began to play and Corbyn found himself stirred. Fate had brought him a sign, rewarding him for being on the correct path. As the chords resounded with him, Tanvir inhaled deeply. The wine's aroma was richer now, the light in the room more clear, it prompted him to leave his glass on the table.

Natalia gave him a knowing smile and extended out her hand. They both knew what this meant to them. He took her hand as she gently pulled him from the chair, the dance floor too far away now for what they had. It had to be here. The two held each other close; their eyes locked together in a deep passionate trance.

"I love your glow, Nat." Corbyn said looking deep into her dark colored eyes, "I would force a whole planet to leave just so we could dance upon the entire surface alone."

Her eyes closed as she sighed longingly, "Mmm, Tanvir. We could live in their houses and have all the orchestras on the Frontier to play for us."

They nestled each other as the music reached it's zenith. As they slowly revolved around each other, Corbyn caught a glimpse of Francis through the throngs of people. He could have sworn he saw Francis look bitter before he left. He would deal with him later, at this exact moment nothing could bother him.


	5. Chapter 4 - Harper

_A/N: Hiya just a couple of things to say (write?) before you start the chapter. First, there's a truck in the art book that was nameless, so I decided to refer to it by the artist's name: Shoberg. That way, anyone who has the art book (TF1 Pg. 67) or finds it online knows what I'm talking about. Second, I'm interested in what you guys think so far. This is the second thing I've started writing, and I hope the change in style is more easily_ _accessible_ _than the nightmare Banners turned into, where a reader would have to go through 40-odd pages, because of my chapter length goal. So! Any Pm's/reviews would be greatly appreciated!_

 _Thanks as always and enjoy! :)_

* * *

"Promises"

Concord System

Concord

2212, November 7th

* * *

All day and night the annoying lock-lift had kept her up and Olivia Harper was close to her breaking point. She looked out her window at the old boom-rush colonial town of Export as it spread haphazardly towards the water. The SRS had stuck her here after she signed the Militia's demobilization papers and handed over her friend Mayumi's, original memories. It had been the price of her freedom. Her only friend, Mayumi had told her to live no matter what before she entered the G2 program. There were days were Harper found that hard to believe.

In some ways, Export wasn't so bad. In fact, it reminded her a lot of her home in Brighton. Seeing all the roofs clumped together was like home. In the early morning sun rising over the large lake, the itch to go free running again scratched at her mind. To feel the wind in her hair as she leapt across a chasm to the other side. The freedom it brought. Every day, she would get this feeling and every day she would stay within the twelve walls of her apartment.

Olivia left her bedroom and into the small living room. It was spartan except for the small console on a cabinet and the worn couch across from it. Harper dropped into the couch and sighed. She was, as the SRS Captain put it, "a ward of the Militia" until they find her a permanent residence somewhere, where they were sure she wouldn't be a threat. They also brought her just enough groceries but not much else. It was nice, considering how small her quarters were on the _Colossus_ and if she bullshitted herself, it was almost like getting room service. It was still house arrest on Militia credits.

Harper looked out the window again. She could make some tea and watch the tellie or break a rule. The thought thrilled her, breaking a rule felt like more fun. She was already going crazy with cabin fever and the other thoughts in her head. Somewhere Mayumi's voice whispered live and Olivia hopped back off the couch and went back to her bedroom. In her closet, she pulled out some comfy clothes and her trainers.

The apartment window slid up pretty easily and Harper checked the roof below. She'd never opened it before for fear someone would catch her. The roof looked sturdy enough and fear went away as she placed a foot down. She was almost uncontrollably giddy, Olivia brought her other foot out and tested her weight while sitting on the sil. It felt sturdy and so she slipped out the window completely. The sun was now clearing over the lake and Harper shielded her eyes from the sun's rays. Below, early risers (or those who hadn't slept like her) were already on their way to work.

It didn't look too far to the next roof, so she gave it a shot. Harper made a leap across the gap and landed easily on the other side. Triumphant at her small accomplishment, she looked back at her window. _Brilliant._ Harper's smirk now cemented on her face, took off running across this new roof she'd longed to run across before.

She came across a small gap of a stairwell, it was about a couple meters across, easy enough. Harper gave herself a good jump and sailed across the gap. Her touch down was a little off but it only slowed her stride so she could hop a large fan box protruding out of the roof. She grabbed the top of it and used her upper body strength to leap over the AC unit. Harper's trainers landed on the roof with a satisfying thud of rubber soles and cement. Again, she looked back and thought maybe she could jump back into her own window. Quickly, she wrapped her hair up into lazy ponytail and hopped up onto the AC unit again.

Olivia took in a deep breath and counted down mentally from three. She boosted off the AC unit into a spin, landing with a roll. Her ponytail slapping against the ground. She rolled back onto her feet and back into a run, jumping across the gap of the stairwell again. Harper came up to the edge of the roof and quickly judged the window to be jumpable, but the couch was in the way. She jumped any ways and caught herself on the sides of the window.

"Oh that was awesome!" Harper laughed to herself dropping in from the window.

"Having fun are we?" A gruff voice came from the doorway.

Harper gasped. There was a man in a SRS uniform leaning against the wall by the door with his arms folded. He looked to be about 150 centimeters tall, give or take, with aged creases in his face. Casually, he got off the wall and unfolded his arms. Harper didn't remember the Militia saying she had an appointment today.

"Shit." Harper knew they were watching her.

He looked her up and down. "Not running off, are we?"

"Listen mate, I don't know who you are. Where's Captain June?" Captain June was her overseer from when she was held on the _Wolcott_ and the normal liaison she'd see here.

"Captain June is on assignment. I'm Captain Anderson, SRS. I'll be taking over your reallocation today."

Harper cocked her head to one side. "Where now?"

"To an ex-IMC colony on Haven. A short jump from here." He said frankly. "Pack only what you need. You have twenty minutes."

Harper stared at him for a second waiting for him to make some sort of "go" gesture but he just stood there. It clicked after a second that he was already counting and Harper left towards her bedroom to grab her duffel bag. She heard his footfalls approach as she began packing her bag with regulation precision. Olivia stared at him for a moment as he watched her. His face was expressionless, Anderson was just watching her in case she was a flight risk. Which was fair, considering she had just left for a moment.

"You want to turn around?" She said tersely.

"So you can jump out another window? Sorry, miss."

Harper narrowed her eyes and put on a button up shirt instead, reminisce of the types she'd worn at basic. She sat on the bed and pulled off her trainers and laced up her Pilot boots, one of the few pieces of her uniform she was allowed to keep. Oddly, she was allowed to keep her gloves too.

Olivia went to the bathroom next and with Anderson in tow. Was he going to follow her all over the house? She pulled her toothbrush and other items out of the cabinet. Anderson stepped back and allowed her past as she stowed the items away in her duffel.

She went to the kitchen next and pulled out a couple of the breakfast bars. Harper tucked one into her pocket and the other she snacked on as Anderson followed her about. There wasn't much to pack but living in confinement like this made her draw it out just a little bit to get back at them.

"Okay, let's go." Harper said with a shrug when she ran out of things to do.

"Follow me." Anderson led the way to the door.

Outside was a Militia schemed Gremlin light transport vehicle. Unlike most Gremlins she'd seen, this one didn't have its turret on top and the protective bars had been removed. There was a driver awaiting them at the wheel and Anderson pulled the bag from her hand and tossed in the back.

"Get in." he said and ushered her towards the back seat.

Once she'd got in, Anderson took the passenger side and they took off up the road. Harper leaned against the door and rested her head on her hand as she watched the people go off about their lives. The sun was up in the sky now casting the whole city in an orange glow.

Anderson turned around in his seat, "We're going to the immigration office to update your status and then we'll board a Crow for Haven. We'll be putting you up at the Barker Brewing Company along with several other ex-IMC. This goes smoothly, it'll go a long way in your favor."

Harper nodded.

A few blocks later, they arrived at the immigration office, and Anderson ushered her out of the vehicle and led her into the office. He cut to the front of the line much to everyone's annoyance.

"Tell Vivorog, Anderson's here."

The lady at the desk looked at Anderson and keyed her headset. "Mr. Vivorog, there's a man named Anderson for you, Militia."

Harper didn't catch what the man said but the woman rolled her eyes, "He'll be out in a minute."

"Tell him to take his time. We don't mind." Anderson said and took Harper by the shoulder over to a seat. "Right, you stay here."

Anderson pulled out a handcuff and clipped it over her wrist and then to the chair. Harper pulled on the cuff and looked up at Anderson surprised. "Really?"

He left without saying anything which earned him a scowl from her. She didn't know how much time had actually passed but eventually Anderson and Vivorog returned with a datapad for her to sign as well as a litany of other forms. She was so drowsy from the wait that she didn't really follow everything they told her. The gist she got from it was a heap of bureaucratic forms that were submitted to a registry of all ex-IMC.

When they finished, Anderson fastened the other cuff to her wrist and lead her back to the Gremlin. Back inside, they drove off again to landing pad near the lock-lift. The driver pulled up close and Anderson stepped out and opened her door. When she was out of the truck, he grabbed her bag and walked over to the awaiting Crow. The crew was loading up the last of the supply crates up the drop ramp. She and Anderson stepped into the Crow through the side door and took seats nearest the pilots.

"Welcome aboard Captain." The dropship pilot greeted him shaking his hand.

"Thanks." Anderson replied.

"Who's this?" The pilot pointed towards her.

"Ex-IMC." Anderson said simply.

"Got a lot of them these days." The pilot said taking his seat.

Harper couldn't help but wonder just what had happened in the months she'd been confined. What had changed? She thought about where Mayumi was now and how she was being treated by Winters. _You ever endanger the life of a squad mate again, I swear you will not make it to the evac._ Winters words echoed through her head again and Harper shivered. A woman like Winters would never defect, she was dead set on hunting whoever Ramirez was. Olivia wondered if she was hunting her now too.

"Yeah," Anderson said adding, "especially now that Graves is in charge, you know?"

"What!?" Harper couldn't believe it. "Graves? Marcus Graves!?"

The pilots chuckled, "That's right. Big Zeus himself."

Harper's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she looked to Anderson for more details. He just laid his head back against the dropship hull with a smirk and went to sleep. She was still incredulous as the dropship jumped past atmo and into space a few minutes later. _Things certainly had changed._

She had thought Export was impressive, but the smaller moon of Haven was breathtaking. The Crow came in on the right side of the city that gave the moon it's name and she gasped. Towering skyscrapers jutted high near the ocean's edge, surrounded by tall mountains and thick forests. The resort town was different from Export in almost every way. There was nothing tall about Export but here the buildings all stretched high into the air.

"Captain! We're gonna set you down just a klick outside of town. From there you'll get your transport to Barker's!" The pilot shouted.

"Good!" Anderson shouted waking from his nap.

Anderson stood up and motioned for her to do the same. The dropship touched down and the crew chief came forward and pulled on the ramp release. A loading dock supervisor stepped onto the lowering ramp as it was just about to hit the ground and immediately started taking inventory.

"You're late!" the supervisor yelled.

"Picked up some hitchhikers." The crew chief said simply.

"Typical. I gotta scan and inventory all this in ten, before the next flight arrives."

"I ain't stoppin' ya." The crew chief grinned and returned to the cockpit.

Anderson lead her out the side door and out towards a bright yellow flatbed Shoberg truck. They passed a forklift on the way over to the Crow. Anderson pounded on the driver side door. A huge man swung the door open.

"You mus' be Anderson." He said with an gruff Australian accent.

"Yeah. Charlie?"

"That's me. This mus' be Harper then." He craned pass Anderson to get a good look at her. "Why she in handcuffs?"

"Procedure." Anderson answered and passed him a tablet. "Here's the data work for you."

"Right, well, it's a bit of a squeeze but hop in."

Anderson grabbed Harper's cuffs and unlocked them. "Pilot Harper, under the demobilization clause, I hereby release you into the care of the Barker Brewing Company under supervision of Charlie Turner. He's your boss now and like you was ex-IMC. He'll show you what to do, I'm sure you'll fit right in." He nodded for her to get into the Shoberg.

Harper hopped into the truck as Charlie gave her hand.

"Oh!" Anderson reached into a compartment of his uniform, "One more thing! Captain June cleared this."

Anderson pulled out a wrist-comm and tossed it into the truck after her. Harper was so surprised that the wrist-comm almost fell out of her lap. As soon as she got a hand on it, Olivia knew exactly what it was. It was her wrist-comm with her friend's Mayumi's memories on it. She clutched it close to her chest with both hands. It made her feel like a little girl, but she didn't care - this was the most precious thing she had left. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.

Captain June had made it part of the price for her release when she was interrogated on the _Wolcott._ Harper had no choice in the matter, Mayumi was going to be taken from her regardless at least if she signed the papers she had hope of getting it back. The fact that June had kept her word at all was overwhelming to Harper. Then a horrible thought came over her.

"Are they still on here?" Harper's shouted voice fraught with doubt.

Anderson turned around almost back on the dropship, "What, your friend's memories? Most of them."

"Wot you mean? 'Most of them'?!" Harper almost screamed; a tear escaping down her cheek.

"Captain Anderson, are you not coming?" Charlie called too.

Anderson ignored them or didn't hear as he returned to the dropship. Olivia's lip trembled and she looked down at the beat up wrist-comm that held what was left of her friend. She had something now to hold onto. Harper bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she fought to keep her relieved tears in check.

The loading crew worked quick and just after ten minutes got everything loaded on. During that time, Charlie gave Harper a pretty quick run over about what Barker's Brewing company was. Olivia mostly just nodded, Charlie didn't seem to mind much if she was listening or not, he knew how awkward this was and probably didn't want to ask.

As soon as the crew was done, the dock supervisor was already yelling at them to leave as the next Shoberg truck was arriving. Charlie put the truck in gear and pulled the truck around the landing pad as the Crow took off.

They drove for a while. As the sea pulled away into the distance, the forest got thicker and thicker. Soon, they were driving up hills, and by the time they arrived the sun was almost at midday. They broke over a ridge coming up along a monorail track. Harper watched the track whiz by as they drove.

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, breaking the silence, "I forgot to mention that the brewery is under a monorail. Don't worry, the train is pretty regular, you'll sleep around it."

"Okay."

"Say you're English, aren't you?" Charlie made a grin.

"Yea." Harper turned to Charlie.

"I thought as much. It's always good to see another person from the Core. Though, actually, most of us are but - I dunno. Still nice. Say, we've already got ya digs and all. And this is very sudden but why not come over for lunch? My wife, Sof, just loves company and it'll give you a chance to meet some of the people. Ease in to it, an' all that."

She didn't want to. Harper didn't want to talk to anyone right now. She had gotten used to being alone, not knowing anyone. After months of bureaucratic procedure and being shuffled around from one person's problem to the next, Harper was getting used to not knowing anyone for long periods of time.

"Sure." She heard herself and immediately regretted it. _Agh, damnit, no! Come on Harper!_ She scrunched her face.

"Oh, good." Charlie said clearly relieved. "Well, if you wanted peace away from the war. You can't get much further away than this backwater!" He laughed.

The forest gave way to a river on their right and the road began to slant downward. They came around a bend under the monorail, revealing a small hamlet surrounded by rice paddies on either side. Near the center of the hamlet was a large building decorated with bright flags. On the perimeter were smaller buildings. Houses Harper guessed as she saw little figures amassed by them.

Charlie steered the truck towards the main building in the center. "We have to drop these supplies off first and then we'll stop for lunch."

Olivia remained quiet as they drove up the center of town. They pulled in under the monorail and Charlie put the Shoberg in park. He got out first and went to greet the crew awaiting the supplies. Harper slipped her wrist-comm on and pulled her duffel from the back, hoisting the bag over one shoulder.

It suddenly clicked. Barker, this was _the_ Barker. The one she and her team were ordered by Blisk to find back in Angel City. _Oh this is fucked._ Harper's mind began to race. The SRS must've thought this a cruel joke after everything she went through. It wasn't like she was had even seen him. There were so many other IMC there too. They couldn't think it was just her? Or maybe they did this on purpose to see if she was a sleeper agent?

The soft burn of jumpkit sounded overhead and Harper tossed her duffel aside and rolled. She came up and swung her head back and forth awaiting to see Captain June or another SRS goon to come out of the sky on her. Instead, she spotted a man in construction orange jumping between the tracks of the monorail.

"Hey? Are you ok?" Charlie interrupted her internal panicking.

Harper froze, she didn't know how to respond. _What should I say?_

Charlie rubbed his temple and shook his head gently, "Stupid Charlie, you did it again. Sorry, you must've thought he was a enemy. No, we use the jump kits to check the monorail line for breaks. Come on, let's get you something to eat instead."

He walked past her out the door and a moment later Olivia rushed to catch up. They went around the building and under the monorail down some wood steps. She still looked around taking the place in and looking for things like cameras or drones watching her. When she couldn't find any, Harper just kept the thought in the back of her head.

Across a rice paddy, they came to a refab house with a boy outside. When he saw his dad he hopped up and ran over to him, leaving his book behind. Charlie ran up a couple steps and knelt down.

"Da! You're back!"

"Aye, Russ."

"Can I come with ya next time, da?"

"Sure, sure. I'll teach you how to drive stick." Charlie patted his son's head.

"Awesome! Maybe we can go to Concord next and see the lock-lift?"

"Oof, one step at a time okay?"

Russ and Charlie walked together to the house. Harper followed them and readjusted the duffel back over her shoulder. The kid looked back at her and then up at his dad.

"Who's she, da?"

"She's new, Russ."

Charlie opened the door with his son following him. The kid was still looking back at her every now and again. Harper wanted to flick him on the forehead. It was awkward enough being here, she didn't need some kid making it weirder.

The inside of the house was lived in. About the nicest thing Harper could say at first impressions. It was a deep contrast to the clean white walls and brightly lit hallways of most IMC ships. The house was also a downgrade from her temporary residence at the Angel Apartments in Export. Here, it smelled like too many things that she couldn't even place. A pot was boiling, a console was on, wind was rustling something metal on plastic, and a woman's laugh. Wooden tables next to refab cabinets decorated with portraits and tablets. From the kitchen, Harper spotted spices and vegetables hanging from the ceiling. Not to mention that even the materials of the house were second rate at best. For a family of former IMC, this place drew up multiple infractions.

Russ ran up some stairs as Charlie lead her to the kitchen. His wife was in her early forties, with a deep suntanned face and a dark head of hair. She looked up from the dish she was working on.

"Oh who's this then?"

"Sof, meet Olivia Harper," Charlie introduced her, "just been released by the SRS to start work here."

"Welcome, love, I'm sure you're spent. Sit down, sit down! Can I get you some tea or bikkies?"

"Um," Harper tried to think as she was put into a chair and both tea and biscuits were put in front of her anyways.

Charlie took a seat next to her and pulled the teapot towards him and poured a cup. She watched as he took a biscuit and dipped it in the tea and bit into it. Sof turned around and scolded him.

"Mr. Turner! Stop stuffing yer gob and give our a guest a pinch."

"Yes, luv." Charlie smiled and made an embarrassed chuckle.

"So," Sophia said joining them at the table, "what brings you here, Ms. Harper?"

 _Where do I start?_ When she got to the Demeter Gateway? How she and Dax spent weeks aboard the same dropship in transit to the _Sentinel_? Maybe at the Colony, where she first met Winters who later tried to have her killed? Or how her only friend on the Frontier was driven away from her. What maybe they really wanted was how on Persephone in order to not die, she had to coax a suicidal Pilot to help them escape? _Oh, even better than all of that is how the Militia forced me to give up my friend and turn my back on my home!_

A hand softly curled around her fist and Harper startled. She hadn't realized how tense she was getting just thinking about it. Her face went bright red and pulled her hand away. There was too much here, it was overwhelming. Harper shot a look at Sophia. _One my missions was to kill your boss here!_ She wanted to shout.

They were ex-IMC, living comfortably under the Militia, Harper didn't even want to be here! She was living among traitors, yet she still believed that the Core Systems needed these resources. Her home was light-years away and suffering while all these sat around under the IMC. For what? A new life? Did they forget? If the IMC ever came here they would all be killed! Demobilization papers wouldn't mean anything.

"Why?" She quietly demanded.

"Hm? What was that, dear?" Sophia asked.

"Why did you leave? Why did you turn your back on the Core Systems?" Harper said slowly looking up at the two of them.

Charlie and Sophia gave each other an uncomfortable look. After a moment, Sophia came around and rested an arm on her husband's shoulder.

"After the war," Sophia started, "Sol and Tau were both polluted and broken. The debris belts stretched from Earth to Mars to Jupiter. Just flying from planet to planet became dangerous because of all of the junk."

"I was a hauler for Luna-Sol Industries," Charlie took over, "before Hammond Robotics bought the company. God, that was almost a twenty five years ago. Oof."

Sophia chuckled, "I was just out of technical school and everyone was sure this was the war that Einstein had been talking about where the one after us would be just sticks and stones. We waited for the day Tau Ceti would just drop a ship on our heads and wipe us out."

Harper sighed impatiently, "I know, I grew up on Earth. Every day there's debris showers all over the sky."

"I'm sure you signed up just like we did." Sophia smiled ruefully and Charlie scoffed.

"You're bloody right. I couldn't wait to become a Pilot!"

"A lot of people did," Sophia continued, "we joined the recolonization effort to rebuild home. Except, nothing here went as it was supposed to. Generations of people living on their own who no longer recognized our authority. Things got ugly and a lot us wanted change."

Charlie took over. "Yeah, change wasn't exactly easy. Mac and Graves tried to find the quickest way to end the war."

"That's the second time today I've heard Graves' name brought up. He's a traitor too now isn't he?"

Charlie scratched his bald head, "Sof, I just realized this story gonna be really complex after all. Listen Harper, why don't we pick this up another time?"

There wasn't something about his tone that pleaded she not press it anymore. Olivia was left wondering exactly what would make these people turn. She guessed she'd have to wait a little longer.

"Fine."

"Ah, good. Why don't you just sit yourself on the couch out there and I'll... get meself in order."

"I'll help you darling." Sof said following him out of the kitchen.

Harper finished her cup of tea and reluctantly sat on the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable and despite how hard Harper fought to stay awake and mad, the couch soon drew out her weariness and she slipped asleep. The fatigue of the day finally catching up to her.


	6. Chapter 5 - Harper

"Backwater"

Concord System

Haven

2212, November 7th

* * *

Olivia awoke suddenly in an unfamiliar room. Her Pilot training kicking in instinctively. O _bserve, assess, react._ She scanned the room quickly, it was pre-fab bungalow civilian. Civilian meant little danger. Next, she noticed that she wasn't held captive or in any danger.

"Hey," a boy's voice murmured behind her.

Harper's face shot in his direction, her ponytail whipping around to hit her face. He jumped, scarred by her over reaction to such a simple greeting. Without realizing it, she had gripped the top of the couch with every intention of pouncing on this new comer. Almost all at once, her body relaxed and Harper felt lethargic.

She mumbled back a greeting and collapsed back on the couch. Olivia remembered where she was now. A demobilized IMC Pilot, forbidden from taking up arms against her captors shuffled around until they could figure out where to put her. When they did, they flew her out to a backwater hamlet where everyone worked the fields and drank. It was as close to being disarmed as she was going to get.

The boy came around the couch and took a seat in a chair next to her. He looked harmless enough but in the back of her mind, Harper recalled her courses at Severin about how even children would be used by terrorists to carry out attacks. He watched her for a moment before he opened up a tablet.

"You're a Pilot aren't you?" He asked.

She looked at him. That wasn't a hard guess to make, her boots and gloves gave that away. Harper shrugged. The boy, she remembered his name was Russell, blinked but continued to stare at her.

"I've met a Pilot once. She was okay." Russ said.

 _I'm sure all the Militia Pilots you met were okay._ Harper thought to herself. _They aren't the demons you make us IMC Pilots out to be._ The comparison wasn't really fair but Harper still wasn't keen on being talked to right now.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." Harper sat up and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"You don't look okay."

"Do you badger everyone like this?" She snapped.

He looked offended but none the less persisted in staying in the chair. "Sometimes."

"Smart arse." Olivia crinkled her nose at him.

"I just wanted to ask you a question."

"What?" Her impatience growing every moment he talked to her.

"You're from Concord, right? Have you seen the lock-lift?"

Harper sank back into the cushions, "Like every day."

"Really!" Russell said excitedly. "How's it work? I only saw it from the air when we went to the immigration office. It was really huge and I saw it and just couldn't imagine anything like it! So, I really wanted to look at it and figure it out, right? So the bit that goes up the mountain is that like a slide or something or..."

Sophia entered the room cutting Russ short, "Stop bothering our guest, Russ."

"Mum, I was only asking a few questions."

"Sorry about him, he's a good kid just curious is all. Come on Russ, go help your father."

Russ got up from the chair and left the room. Sophia ended up taking his place on the chair. They may not be Militia but it still felt like she was being interrogated. All she had wanted on Persephone was to survive. Was all this just some cosmic bullshit to get back at her?

"Dear," Sophia said gently, "the food's still in the kitchen if you're hungry."

She was but that wasn't the point. Her stomach growled betraying her and Harper gritted her teeth. Sophia smiled and stood up.

"Listen, I know that change is hard. And adjusting here will a process. Plus if it's any consolation, what you've had to go through Is harder than most. Not many could've done what you did."

"What do you know about it?" Harper almost shouted. "What do you know about any of it?"

Sophia had gotten up to leave but she stopped at the door and turned her gaze to the floor. The woman was about to say something but changed her mind. Harper watched Sophia leave the room in the opposite direction of the kitchen. She waited for her steps to stop before she hesitantly got up from the chair and towards the kitchen.

The table was just like it was before. Tea and biscuits were still on the table with the addition of a plate rehydrated meat and other better than MREs food. Harper took a seat at the table and picked up a fork. The food didn't look poisoned or exactly awful. _Wait a second!_ Harper suddenly had a thought. _I've been at those apartments for a while and under their watch but maybe they've cleared me to be on my own?_

The realization was enough to get her to take a bite of the food. It was salty and a little dry but she ate the meat and the rest of the processed food. Greedily, she grabbed the pot of tea and poured a cup. The full weight of her hunger had set in and Harper crunched on the crackers loudly, eager to sate her stomach. In her rush, she didn't hear Charlie come back into the kitchen but saw him sit at the table. Harper stopped chewing and put the tea cup down.

"Hey, you don't have to stop cuz I'm here." He told her.

Harper continued but slowly now.

"Listen, I know it's a lot to take in. It's been years since I was even in the IMC but if it's anything like it was twenty years ago."

She was in mid-sip and Harper had to force herself to not spit her tea out. When she was sure there wasn't going to be an issue, she set the cup down. "Twenty years ago?"

"Oh yeah, it was fucked up back then but nothing like it is now." Charlie grimaced and looked to make sure his son wasn't around.

"Wot you mean?" She asked.

"You defected. What was your reason? Take your pick."

"I didn't defect." Harper said flatly.

Charlie looked confused. "Huh?"

"I was demobilized."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, that if I ever take up arms against the Militia. You'll shoot me."

Charlie jumped out of his seat, the chair sprawling to the floor. His eyes were wide with shock. _That's right. I did what I had to. I saved my friend what was left of her and traded everything for it. Not that you'll ever know._ Harper put her hands on the table; muscles tense in case she had to defend herself. Charlie rubbed his bald head and mumbled to himself.

Finally, he said to her, "That's fucked. It is. The Coalition ain't the best thing on the Frontier but it's a start. They've made a lot of different rulings on the same thing, back and forth."

Harper sighed, "Does it matter?"

Charlie sighed too, "Not really. Listen, let's go get you settled and then get you working tomorrow."

"Fine."

She collected her duffel bag by the door now and followed Charlie back out into the fields. He stood and stretched his back and then raised a hand over his eyes and watched the bridge. Olivia looked confused and squinted to see what he was looking at.

"Right on time." He said and plugged his ears.

"Wha-" Harper began before the sound of a train whistled in the distance.

It chugged into view, a long collection of cars and freight snaking across the tracks. Olivia watched it as it slowly made its way closer and the noise became a loud rumble. She saw Russell run up to his dad with his tablet in hand. The boy starting snapping shots of the train cars and studying them. Harper looked around and saw many people either watching the train or just ignoring it. This was routine for them.

Here in the doldrums, this must be some sight. Watching a train come by three times a day. Olivia found it quite sad. Here were people that used to be so disciplined and connected and now here they were doing nothing all day. _How the fuck do they live like this?_

A man stumbled out of a building shouting, though over the noise no one could hear him. His hair was pulled back into a man bun, though his sides were cut short. A beard covered his face and from this distance, he looked familiar. Charlie made an audible agitated sigh, which was impressive considering how loud it was. Harper watched as Russell took a photo of the man and laughed. His father scolded him but ultimately just shook his head as the man fell over and nearly rolled down the hill.

The train passed a few seconds later and Charlie turned to Harper and nodded to her to follow him. Russell came along too and Harper occasionally looked back at the man who fell over. He was trying to stand up now but with difficulty. _I guess not everyone adjusted well to this place._

They came to a bungalow and Charlie pushed the door in. A musky smell came through the door followed by stale air. Charlie frowned and turned to Harper.

"The person who lives here doesn't come back much."

"Where are they?" She asked.

Charlie heard the man on the hillside shout loudly and turned to look at him, "He's away mostly."

"Well, what does he do?" Harper continued her questions as she watched the man on the hillside finally dust himself off.

"Transport. Come on." he lead them inside.

The bungalow was half clean and half disorderly, like most men's apartments she'd seen. The area around the console was full of empty bottles and food boxes but the walls were undecorated. She saw this man was as a drunk or he spent a lot of time drunk in front of the console. If he wanted to unwind in front of the console, she could understand that. She and her other roommates at Severn did as much on their downtime, watching the latest in last year's releases.

"Make yourself at home in one of the spare rooms, I guess." Charlie said.

"Um, alright."

Harper made her way around the piles and opened a few doors until she came to a room that was sort of clean and didn't look too dirty. She stepped into the abandoned room pushed a box or two out of the way.

"Yep, this'll do." She declared and brushed her bangs from her face, "So what do I need to know about this man I'm rooming with? He's ex-IMC, I'm sure. So what baggage or other people do I need to know about?"

"He's uh,well, one of the few not ex-IMC living with us. Decent man but had some issues from his time during the Demeter Offensive."

"I thought we were all ex-IMC here?" Harper asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"Pretty much, yeah. Those who aren't, knew Barker at one point or another."

"Hmm. Right." She wasn't completely assured by Charlie's answer but at least she knew now. "What else?"

"Huh, let's see. Drinks mostly. He was a stimmer, most Pilots are, but he's tapered off since he left the service."

"Alright, well," Harper dropped her duffel bag on the ground, "do I call you if I have an issues?"

"Oh yeah, you know were I live and work. I'll be back with the bunk in a minute."

"Right." Olivia said and took clearing the space out for her things. Russ stayed behind enveloped in something on his tablet. Harper didn't mind as she suspected that if he walked in seeing the foreman's son would smooth introductions somewhat. That was something she'd have to ask Mr. Turner about when he returned.

She got to work and move more boxes and opening windows and finding a place for her things. She had little and kept it all squared away. In a closet she put up her civvies, the only two extra pairs of shirts and pants she had, folded and hung in IMC fashion. She kept her wrist-comm on but put the gloves on a stack of boxes that acted for her night stand when the bunk came. Next just to keep herself moving, she started relocating all of her roommate's things from her room and put them against the wall while Russ sat on the couch with his tablet.

Next, Olivia moved onto taking the rest of her stuff from her duffel and putting neatly by where she wanted her bunk. The toothbrush, next to the paste, next to the flush, next to the shoe polish, and so on until it was all in neat bunches based on category. Those categories would've been bigger too but the SRS in all their wisdom had decided what was and wasn't code for her to have.

A thump at the door and Charlie's voice signaled he'd returned with the bunk. Russ opened the door for him while Harper peeked out of her room. Charlie spotted her head and came over hauling the prefab bunk under his arm.

"Oh," he said surprised when he saw the junk against the wall and room near spotless, "didn't waste any time didja?"

Charlie put the bunk down in the doorway in front of Harper and she quickly grabbed it and put where she wanted it to go. She rotated it until she found the "this way front" and pulled back on the lever that sprung the bed out like a satellite panel.

"By the way," she said as she plunked the blankets on her bunk, "what's your position here?"

"You make it sound like a rank when you say it like that. It's just Charlie, it's a group effort here. We do what we can."

Harper frowned. Just how the hell did the Militia ever pose a threat with communities like this? _MacAllan helped them._ She answered herself. That had to have been the only way. Only an ex-IMC like MacAllan or Vice-Admiral Graves could've led an insurrection this successful. _Though, that Ramirez bloke was runnin' around against us in the badlands so... that must be where all the talent is._

"Understood. When do I report tomorrow?" Harper asked. She knew he wasn't her superior but all the laziness around here was making her feel like they needed to see professionalism. _Save it for where it matters._ She told herself.

"Ah, I dunno, let's say eight-ish? You don't need to say that, I haven't been in the service for twenty years, remember?" Charlie shrugged.

Olivia nodded.

"Alright, we'll we're off. Take a walk if you like, see the grounds. See ya tomorrow."

She watched them leave and busied herself with a little extra cleaning of her room. When there was nothing left for her to do, Olivia took off the button up shirt, hanging it in the closet. Unlaced her boots and placed them with regulation precision by her bunk, grabbed her trainers and left.

It was hard to tell what was a shop and what was a house or even what was both to her. Harper saw that most of the bungalows looked to be mostly prefab or something similar. The only real exception to this, was the brewery section, that looked like it was made of mostly new materials. Since it was Barker's brewery, that made her think he had most of the credits around here. Which he did, since he's a Militia hero now, so it would follow they gave him the money to do his little venture.

Olivia walked around the outside of the bungalow getting a feel for it. She checked the walls to make sure they were intact and anything that looked out of the ordinary. Near the foundation of the house was a dirty logo but the white star was unmistakable. She crouched down on one knee and brushed some of the dirt away and saw the IMC logo of the prefab house. Ex-IMC living in IMC prefab houses serving under the Militia on a neutral planet. The Frontier was a strange place.

Harper stood up and continued her walk towards a path that lead up to the road she and Charlie had come in on. She stopped at the crest of the hill and looked back on the hamlet. The small valley was cut in half by the rail bridge forming two depressions on either side. The side she'd be living on was mostly made of fields with houses on the perimeter, the other side was composed of more buildings and shops. So, one side was agriculture and residential, the other was financial. Made sense, she supposed.

A small gust brushed against her and that was when Harper was struck by how quiet it was. Brighton was a bustling tourist town so it was always loud. Aboard the IMC ships, there was always something to do and the IMC ads were always there in the background with the hum of the ship. Even the lock-lift was in Export making noise around the clock. Here, there was only the occasional train. This was going to take some adjustment.

Having enough of the view she made her way back down the hill and over to the other side of the hamlet. She followed a trail around one of the patty fields and under the train bridge. There was some work being done as the workers loaded and unloaded crates of the beer onto a shoberg truck. That must be where most of the money comes from for this place.

She kept walking on to the other side of the hamlet following the dirt road. This side of the hamlet was strung with bright colored flags from wires reaching from the tracks and some poles. It gave it a festive atmosphere. The jungle was thicker in between the buildings on this side, casting shade over much of the pathways. It was nice and cool but the quiet remained.

There were a pair of people working on a generator inside a workshop. A woman and her children carrying bags of food walking up the hill in front of her. A thought crept into her mind, how many of these people had she worked with before they flipped? Would she recognize anyone here? Would Ramirez be here? That thought was enough to end her curiosity and Harper quickly walked back to her bungalow.

Inside her new home, she had nothing really to do to occupy her mind. Back on the Sentinel, they'd had a strict routine broken up only by combat. She had no weapon to clean, so that was out. Her room was at present, as tidy as it was going to get. They had run laps around the hanger bay, though she had just been outside Harper didn't want to run around the whole hamlet. So out of options she grabbed her boots and sat in front of the console and watched whatever was on FNN while she cleaned her boots.

She listened to the broadcast as she worked the heel of her boot. Focusing on making circles, rubbing the polish in deeper. In an odd reflex her mind began to wander when she did menial tasks like this. Back in the apartment in Export she often had time to think, reflect. She thought of Persephone. How Gagnon, leapt off the side to join in the fight. How the transport was being torn apart before she got there. When Winters had ordered her to go down there in the first place. Banishing her from the squad to die there. Mayumi had said that she wasn't always cruel but that was hard to believe.

 _Mayumi_. Harper put the boot and polish down and stared at her wrist-comm before she hugged it against her chest. Winters had driven her only friend to give up everything just so she had a better killing weapon on her team. Olivia hated that someone could do that. To just be okay with changing someone else's life permanently. She had never wanted to leave the IMC but Winters had given her no choice. When choosing between her friend's last words and dying, what other option was there?

"Okay," Harper calmed herself, "deep breaths."

Harper collected her belongings and turned in. She left on her shirt but shed her pants in an attempt to get comfortable on the cot. A moment later she sprung up again realizing that even though she was demobilized that she didn't want to be caught unprepared. She might have been comfortable with male roommates before but they were IMC. This guy was ex-Militia, who knew what that meant.

Olivia scrounged around for a little in the room until she found a flathead screwdriver. That would do until she could put her hands on something a little bit more formidable. Settling back into her cot, Harper stared at ceiling. Back at her flat at Export, she'd left the console on at low volumes to simulate the low hum of the _Sentinel_ and _Colossus_. Olivia looked down at her wrist-comm. Maybe there was something on there she could play. An old briefing or anything would help.

Harper pressed a key to activate it. Nothing, the unit was dead. Olivia sat up in a panic, she hadn't even thought they would give her a dead unit. What if it was broken and that's why they'd given it to her. She pressed a hand to her head and pushed her hair back.

"No no no no no!" Harper mumbled to herself as her panic rose.

She rifled through her duffel back looking for something to charge it with. A spare battery or anything. There wasn't one, she knew she didn't have one. Yet she had looked anyways. _Stupid, so stupid._ She scolded herself. In the back of her mind, she thought she could she Winters smirk at her misfortune.

"Bloody fucking bastards!" Olivia yelled tossing the duffel onto the floor.

A noise grabbed her attention and she held her breath. It sounded like the door shut. She waited and listened. She couldn't hear anything now but she was sure a door had shut. Was her roommate back?

Harper quietly slipped her pants back on and gripped the screwdriver in one hand. Quietly, she moved to the door of her room and placed her ear against it. Still nothing it was quiet on the other side. _Observe. Assess. React_. The words drummed in her ear. Her grip tightened around the screwdriver; her knuckles going white. Slowly, she reached down to the door handle and slowly pulled down on the door...

She was thrown back as someone on the other side forced it open. Harper spun and using the screwdriver in her hand swung hard to connect it into the intruder. A forearm blocked the swipe and Harper brought her full body around to push harder on the stab. It was man, she saw, faintly recognizing him before his body stood aside causing her to fall forward.

Olivia narrowly avoiding sticking the screwdriver into the couch and braced herself with her free hand before trying to stick the man with the screwdriver again. Was it Anderson or one of June's lackeys trying to finish her off?

Once again, the man stopped her thrust and wrapped his arm around her's to make the weapon useless. Harper brought up her knee and caught him firmly in the groin. All of his momentum went out in an instant and the man let go of her arm and fell back against the wall.

Victorious, Harper could see now that it was the man with the beard and man bun from earlier she saw fall in the dirt. Finally able to see him clearly she recognized him it was the Militia Pilot from Persephone.

"You!" She said tucking the screwdriver into the band of her pants and crouched down next to him.

"Not me bawls..." He writhed, cupping his crotch. "Jus' take whatcha want, alright? It's nae bother. Jus' leave me bawls out of it."

"I'm sorry, I just..." Harper was at a lost of what she wanted to say, "Where's your ice?"

"... freezer," He wheezed and pointed towards the far room.

Olivia got up and walked over to the kitchen. She looked back at the man in pain on the floor and grinned proudly to herself. If only she'd had been that clever when she tangled with that Militia Pilot on Outpost 207. Mayumi wouldn't of had to have pushed herself and Winters might not of...

Harper sucked in a deep breath forcing herself to not drudge up bad memories. She pulled open the freezer and looked for ice. There wasn't any, finding something that was useful was quite a challenge. Eventually, she settled on cooling a bottle of whiskey. It would be awkward to use because of it's square shape.

When she returned the man had moved in front of the console, one hand still holding himself the other on the couch. Harper held up the bottle of whiskey. _What was his name again? Jock? Lock?_ She twisted her mouth trying to remember as she handed him the bottle.

"No ice I'm afraid but this bottle's cool."

"Right." he accepted the bottle and placed it between his legs. He then popped off the top and tilted the bottle into his mouth.

She was flabbergasted, "But that's for your..."

"They'll thank me later." He said before taking another pull.

"Bloody hell."

The man chuckled wryly, "Well you're not from around here that's fae sure."

Harper took a seat on the opposite side and noticed the man wouldn't look at her. He was probably ashamed from being beaten in his own home. There was no helping that the man was on the lash.

"No, I just moved in today."

The man's face contorted with confusion, "Moved in?"

"Yea."

"What?"

"I. Moved. In." Harper said loudly enunciating each word.

His head moved back and forth like he was shaking the words from his mind. "No. No! Who says?"

"Charlie." Harper answered.

The man stopped shaking his head and sat rigid for a moment. Suddenly, he moved pretty well for an injured bloke. "Right. Well I'm knackered. It's been fun Bonehead."

"Wot!?" Harper stood up.

"Good night." He swayed back and forth, one hand still on his bruised balls, the bottle in the other.

"Well what's your name then?" She called after him.

He laughed and bumped into a wall before crashing through a door.

"Ass." She said to herself. He must've known that she was coming and that she was IMC. _So Jock or whatever his name is, must've gotten back from a good haul and celebrated with his mates. He knew I was coming but forgot it was going to be today._ That added up.

Olivia left for her room and made sure to lock her door. She flopped onto her cot, this time not bothering to take her pants off, and tried to get to some sleep. The effort was difficult as all the events of the day buzzed around in her head. She twisted and turned on her side, tried her stomach, her back. Every couple of minutes the lack of external hum made her stress out. Blanket on too hot. Blanket off too cold. She settled on pulling the blanket over her chest to expose her toes. Finally comfortable enough she sighed and let her body relax. Then the train showed up.


	7. Chapter 6 - Lena

_Hi all. Sorry this one's a little late. It was going to be 3 different chapters, then it became 2 chapters, and then it made more sense to just roll them altogether into one bigger but more cohesive product. After this, I should be back on track for posting once a month again like I planned. Big thanks to all who've read so far, it really keeps me going. Cheers!_

* * *

"Trust But Verify"

Freeport System

Harmony

2212, November 8th

* * *

Lena shuffled the stem of wheat around in her mouth as the volunteers behind her dug a trench around one of the captured AOD guns. After the jubilant people of Harmony nearly emptied their entire stock of alcohol on the planet, Greene had got them working on preparing defensive positions around important strong points.

There were still remnants of IMC hiding out even after they were abandoned by their commanders. The Magistrate was firm that no one would return to their fields until the IMC threat had been stamped out. Hence, the reason why she and the other Pilots were stationed around the AOD guns. Lena figured there was another reason why they were here too. Holding the AOD guns would also be crucial in making sure the Militia played ball. None of the farmers wanted to believe it but this was their life now: at war with the Frontier.

She crunched a piece of the stem off and spat it out. Lena tugged on her scarf to loosen it around her neck. It was a particularly warm day on Harmony and the smoldering fields around Nexus weren't any help either. Lena turned around and watched the volunteers in their shaded trench. It would be nicer down there in case of a sniper but Lena wasn't too worried about those sorts of things. If a sniper was out there, then a single shot and it'd be over with.

Craning her neck to the sky, she still couldn't believe the IMC ships had gone. There had been dozens of them for years and now not a one. Until the Militia arrived that was. Lena was hesitant to invite the next biggest faction on the Frontier to their newly won doorstep but the decision hadn't been up to her and perhaps, that was a good thing.

"Hey Darragh, could we get some water here?"

"Yea, sure." Lena bent over and grabbed the water bucket and hoisted it down to the men in the trenches.

They thanked her and each took turns scooping a cup of water out of the bucket. Then the volunteers took a rest, finding a cool spot to sit in. Someone produced a harmonica and began to practice. Even Lena sat under the shade produced by the AOD gun as a warm breeze brushed her face.

It was one of those rare warm November days but the fires that still plagued the planet hadn't helped any either. Whole swaths of crops still burned from the Scorch Titans and their thermite. Smoke still smothered from the craters the IMC bombers had made. There was a fear that Harmony would never be green again. It would be just like old times if not for the recent blemishes.

Lena returned to scanning the tops of the fields looking for anything that resembled a human head or a Spectre's dome. Far off she saw a volunteer crew attempting to put out a fire by throwing dirt on it. Further off in the fields, there was a Stryder with it's Pilot and some patriots attempting to cover it with camo netting. To her left, as she scanned away from Nexus, was a ruined shack along the main road. It was charred and lifeless but she remembered the cold drinks she and mother would get on the long hauls. That was a different lifetime now. An illusionary bubble they had all lived in.

The harmonica stopped suddenly mid breath. Lena looked over from her vigil and saw the man staring at the dirt, entranced. She watched waiting to see what the man was looking at. Slowly, a patch dirt was gently nudged upwards between the man's legs. Curious, the other quieted and watched it too. Slowly a pink star emerged, speckled with cool dirt. Had it not just popped from the ground, it could've been mistaken for a weird plant.

Slowly, more of the creature appeared, it's forward facing black eyes breaking the surface. The whole dig crew had gone silent watching this tiny animal pop up from the ground. The pink star was it's nose and believing it's self undetected popped back into the ground and it's clawed back feet began to kick dirt from it's tunnel. The man with the harmonica grunted and covered his mouth and eyes as dirt pelted his face and shirt.

There were light chuckles all around and the mole stopped it's work. Everyone waited for the dirt shuffling to continue but after half a minute everyone resumed what they were doing. A volunteer joked that it was an IMC mole infiltrating their lines and there was scattered laughter as some of the hands pulled themselves back to work.

Lena returned to her vigil and saw a Samson truck making it's way towards them. She grabbed her rifle's AOG scope and studied the truck. She could see the dark silhouettes of the passengers but not their colors. The truck itself was also not made up to look like a Harmonian one. That was suspicious.

"Truck." She called out flatly.

A thin dark man in a tank top climbed out of the trench and leaned against the ground. "Too early for chow. What do you think it is?"

"Not sure." Her first thought was IMC saboteurs hiding in plain sight and then found she couldn't shake that thought.

The man, Thomas, placed his hand on her upper arm. "Should we get our guns?"

He was thinking the same as her. She kept hoping to see a sign that would reveal their identity but there wasn't anything. It was getting closer and closer now, pressing her to make a decision. If there was a Pilot in there. There wouldn't stand a chance.

"Better safe than dead. Take positions but don't fire until I say so."

"Okay." Thomas said gaining courage and quickly passing the word along. The harmonica stopped, people cursed under their breath as they fumbled to get their guns and gear. They took too long to get ready and Lena's panic began to elevate. She stuck the 101-C against her shoulder and took aim on the truck.

"Someone better be wearing red in there." Someone joked nervously. No one chuckled, no one spoke at all. All of them hoped the same thing.

The Samson was close now, within firing range of most of their rifles, and still no red emerged. Something had to be done, to force the situation. Lena casted an eye over the trench and quickly came to an idea.

"I'm going to fire a warning shot. Nobody do anything until I say."

She rose her 101-C into the air and fired a single shot. Some of the volunteers startled and one almost dropped his gun. Never a good sign. The truck slowed and a red arm extended out of the passenger side.

"Stop!" Lena ordered. "Get out of the truck!" _If they have Smart Pistols..._ Lena's mind pessimistically supplied. She hoped they didn't.

"Don't shoot! We're friendly." A voice called out. The Samson side door opened and Uji stood on the side of the truck for all to see.

"It's one of the Vanguard Pilots!" Someone whispered.

"What the hell are you doing out here in an IMC truck?" Lena demanded but lowered her gun.

"I'm here on Magistrate's orders," He indirectly answered the question, "all Pilots are to report to Nexus Forward Command."

"What for?"

"To get Titans." He said simply and waved her in.

"What about the AOD gun?" She pointed with her free hand.

"It's clear in this area." Uji stated and got back into the truck.

"Thomas," She called over him, "you're in charge here."

Darragh looked back over the volunteer's progress before she reluctantly walked over and got into the truck. She slammed the door and the truck started moving again. She watched Thomas take up her old spot, hands above his eyes to shield the sun. His pans were too fast, his eyes moved too much. He didn't have the technique for spotting. Lena hoped that Uji was right about this area being free from the IMC.

The truck drove into the fields and back onto the main road towards the forward command. No one in the truck was saying anything and that was fine with Lena. She was already formulating what was going on and it was pretty obvious. A show of strength. _The Magistrate must think that if we dig a few trenches, increase how many Titans we have for our Pilots, it'll impress the Militia. What a sham._ Lena had never used a Titan other than the hijacking courses she took. Only the Vanguard and the Patriot Support Crews had any real Titan experience. The Fourth had kits but no Titans, they specialized as infiltrators. So to give her a Titan was unnecessary and impractical. Resigned, she pulled the scarf from around her neck.

"Master Pilot Darragh," Uji leaned his head towards her.

"What?" Lena answered, casually against his formal tone.

"What're your thoughts on Harmony's situation?"

"Which part?"

"The Militia part."

"You were there not me. What do you think?" Lena propped her head against the window.

"What the Magistrate does, he does for the best of all on Harmony but Hodgins and I already discussed our thoughts. I'd like to hear yours."

"Hm," She mumbled distractedly.

She was watching the burnt fields, the ruined houses, wrecked Titans and vehicles. They had won indirectly with the Militia's help hadn't they? This view wouldn't even be possible if the IMC's supply of Spectres hadn't dwindled. Shouldn't they be thankful? She knew that was the right answer but they had wrested independence themselves. It was a feeling that she didn't want to give up right away.

"I trust the Magistrate but," She began, "we won this freedom ourselves but now it feels like we're handing it away."

Uji nodded and smirked. "Hodgins said the same thing. Consider this, the IMC gave us Titans and taught us how to fight. Now the Militia will give us a fleet and a network."

"So... you're for joining with the Militia?" Lena said puzzled.

"In a way." Uji said and facing back forward.

"You don't have to be mysterious about it. We're all on the same side here."

"It's just an idea. Nothing worth talking about." He said.

They soon reached Nexus Forward Command, where Lena had dropped off the Titan during the final battle. The outer wall was buzzing with guards and Titans both concealed and patrolling. She was sure that the Magistrate had recorded his message to the Militia here. They might just meet the Magistrate himself. Lena wrapped her scarf back around her again, inside this IMC Samson, best to have some red on.

To her surprise, the Samson wasn't challenged at all and the truck drove straight into the compound. Several trucks were parked inside all with varying shades of red to pink somewhere on their vehicles to denote them as a patriot vehicle. A lone Ogre patrolled inside with a chaingun hoisted towards the sky. The attitude inside the compound was very lax compared to when she was here last. The attitudes of the patriots and volunteers was one thing, those who thought the war was over but here, the Magistrate had to know that wasn't the case. A single Ogre wasn't going to stop a well coordinated IMC attack.

She stepped out of the truck and followed Uji and Hodgins into the main structure. Through a metal doorway, they took a passage that led below ground. They passed a hallway that led to the observation trench, deeper into the ground. Voices echoed up the passageway. It looks like the meeting was going to be as protected as it could be. At the end of the hall, she saw something move and made out the barrel of a Spitfire machine gun tracking them as they approached. _Good, this is at least a good killzone._ The passageway would be too small for an IMC Pilot to maneuver in.

Each of them signed in via a retinal scanner and entered through a thick metal door made of bohrium. Inside the room were several other Harmony Pilots. Some 1st Vanguards were here identifiable by their red "V"s, other 4th Pioneers from her group, 7th Pathfinders, and 18th Spearheads. They were all Pilots. To Lena's knowledge only the Vanguards were ever able to get access to Titans as they were all former Titan drivers or loader workers. Everyone else here specialized in other things. Her group focused on acquisitions, hence the data-knife that was apart of their emblem. The 7th group's work was intelligence gathering she thought and the 18th replaced the 10th after it was completely wiped out at Moores Ridge.

What Lena was the most curious about was how the Magistrate was going to give all these groups Titans. The Volunteer Army of Harmony was always in short supply of everything but working Titans most of all. Vanguards were the only group that operated in any assault role, hence their name. For larger engagements some Pilots were attached to Volunteer Groups such as the attack on Nexus. There couldn't be any way that he could supply all the pilots here with Titans.

Then his adjutants arrived. The apprentices came from a door on the opposite side of the room and held it open for the Magistrate. He looked older than the last time Lena had seen him. His face had more creases and his beard was longer and more silver than before. Magistrate Greene's shoulders also sagged and his body gave every sign of stress and aging except his eyes. They still flicked around the room as sharp and careful as he'd been six years ago.

Every Pilot in the room turned towards the Magistrate in revered silence. He made a weary smile and walked over to the podium. When he arrived, he surveyed the room, then motioned for an adjutant to come over. He spoke into his ear and the apprentice adjutant nodded and hurried off.

"Thank you all for your patience. I've sent for some chairs to be brought in."

There were a few voices passing on the offer. The Magistrate looked about the room and saw it was shared by most everyone.

"If that's the case," Noah Greene stated, "let's get started."

He cleared his throat and opened up a datapad. Lena folded her arms in anticipation of his decree.

"All of you know that days ago, I invited the Militia to Harmony. I have heard both praise and protest regarding my decision but know that Harmony's well being is at the forefront of my thoughts. To protect our planet, and the people that reside here, it is in our best interest to reach out to like minded persons on the Frontier.

"Many of us would love nothing more than to return to our way of life before the IMC. Before a war none of us wanted was thrust upon us. To a time, where all our loved ones still lived. Many do not have a home to return to and many of us still have not returned at all.

"It is a hard thing I ask you now. I ask that each of you in this room continue to fight for Harmony and in return, I shall fight for all of you. Even though, I invited the Militia here, they have much to answer for. When General Anderson was given refuge here, did we not give freely?"

A few Pilots nodded.

"When the IMC came to reclaim the cache of weapons and violated our sovereignty, did the Militia come to our aid?"

Some shook their heads and others answered with shouts of no.

"For six long years, we fought and bled and sacrificed! All because of the greed of others! Brothers! Sisters! Patriots of Harmony! Will you stand with me? Will you stand with me and let our cries be heard?"

Almost everyone in the room was nodding.

"I say! Let us shake with one hand but hold a gun in the other. Have the Militia answer for their past injustice and if their answers ring true I ask you to welcome them again to Harmony. Our planet has suffered enough bloodshed for a lifetime. I hope the day comes, where we can return to the fields and put this war behind us. Until that day comes, we must stand. And to do that, we must have the tools to stand with."

 _Here it comes._ Lena thought as the Magistrate's speech came to the important part.

"The 7th Pathfinders have secured an IMC outpost by Meeting House Hill south of Burnscrest. At this outpost, they found several unregistered Titans enough for fifty Pilots plus a rearmament station. We have all seen how a Titan can change the tide of a battle. While this is not enough for all our forces, I ask the 1st Vanguards to train as many Pilots as they can before the Militia arrive."

And there it was. Lena found herself unable to speak. They were no longer patriots with jump kits, they were going to be real Pilots. She turned to Uji and looked up at him. His head was nodding, following the Magistrate's every word. Uji's face was hard, preparing himself for the task to come. She poked him with a finger. His whole body turned.

"You knew?" She asked.

He grinned.

"So most of us are getting Titans now?" Lena pressed.

"Most of them yeah. But you already have one."

"What? You mean that scrap?"

"That 'scrap' is mostly repaired now."

"What? Why?"

Uji turned his attention back to the Magistrate, "Questions later."

Later couldn't come soon enough. Lena hadn't felt this conflicted since her dad had let drive the truck. The speech was mostly over after that and the Magistrate meet with the assembled Pilots one by one. Lena wasn't surprised that the Magistrate knew almost all of their names.

"Tucker," She heard him say to the man in front of her, "your wife and children must miss you very much. It was Elizabeth, Christine and the younger boy... Daniel?"

"Yes Magistrate but Daniel is older." Tucker replied, with a small smile.

The Magistrate chuckled warmly, "Forgive me, a whole planet of names up here." he tapped his head.

"It's enough that you know their names, Magistrate. Meeting you is quite an honor."

"No," the Magistrate said seriously and gripped the man's hand and shook it, "I and the people of this planet owe our freedom to brave patriots such as yourself. I will see that your family is well taken care of. Do you need anything?"

"I couldn't possibly..."

"The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation has been removed from our planet, Pilot Nathaniel Tucker of the 18th Spearheads," Noah Greene said, "and this planet's Magistrate-General has just told he would take care of you. Please ask for anything or I'll be embarrassed."

"Well..." Nathaniel blushed and scratched his forehead, "Our fields were scorched and our village was nearly..."

Lena knew he wanted to return home just like the Volunteers back at the Trench. They all did but that didn't change the fact that they were all at war now. Whether they wanted to or not they might as well hold onto their positions for life.

"You want to go home, is that right?" The Magistrate said as his hands rested on Tucker's shoulders.

Pilot Tucker couldn't bring himself to look the Magistrate in the eye but softly said yes.

"Then go home. Don't look surprised! We all volunteered to fight the IMC and now they're gone. I cannot ask more of you than the sacrifices you've already made." Lena saw the Magistrate's face was sincere.

Tucker looked as surprised as she was. He must've known the weight of his request but Tucker stiffen his shoulders, "Thank you Magistrate."

Noah Greene only nodded but added as the Pilot left the room, "You will send me some of your crop when it comes to harvest, won't you?"

Tucker stopped and turned back to the Magistrate, "Of course, Magistrate!"

Lena watched him leave and she realized the whole room did too. Harmony was a small planet by the end of the day, everyone would know that Tucker had left. His wife might scold him and make him come back, Lena thought.

"Pilot Darragh, a pleasure." She heard the Magistrate address her.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Lena made a small bow.

"I'm gladdened that you could be here today. Your actions at Nexus helped turn the tide of the battle. It may be of interest to you, that that Titan you recovered has been asking about you."

Lena knitted her brow, "I-it what?"

"Oh yes, Kilo Sierra X-Ray... Six-Eight-Four-Three, if I'm not mistaken."

"Um, I don't remember, sir."

"Oh don't call me sir. You make me sound older. Why don't you go out and meet your Titan, Pilot Darragh?"

"Yes, Magistrate." Lena swallowed hard.

"Good. Oh, I will have memorials for your squad held as soon as possible. They were all fine patriots."

"They were. May they rest in peace."

"I will make sure they do." The Magistrate said. There was a resoluteness in his voice, she could hear.

Lena bowed again and left the conference room and met Uji at the door. He uncrossed his armed and thumbed towards the passageway, "Think you can find the Titan refurb center?"

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"I have business with the Magistrate."

"Suit yourself." Lena said and had to consciously stop herself from vomiting.

She would use a Titan but to give her that Titan. Lena admonished herself for that kind of thinking. Harmony didn't have many Titans, she knew that but knowing it didn't make it any better. In the end, Titans were just machines, weren't they? It was the Pilot that had killed her crew. The Titan was as guilty as any gun was. Yet as much as she tried to justify it to herself, the sick feeling remained.

At the top of the steps, Lena almost ran into Hodgins. The truck driver had been by the entrance of the passageway where they left him.

"So is it true?" He surprised her by following her across the courtyard.

"Is what true?" She said annoyed.

"That most of the Pilots are getting Titans to fight the Militia."

"The Militia?" Lena stopped and stared incredulous at Hodgins. "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't that why we're inviting the Militia but arming our Pilots with Titans?"

"We just fought a war Apprentice. Are you eager for another?"

"No Master-Pilot. But why else do that?" Hodgin's looked sincerely perplexed.

"One hand holds out for peace, the other rests on your pistol." Lena repeated the Magistrate's words to him, leaving him in the courtyard.

Lena opened the door to the refurb building. It was hot and loud. Crews were working all over the floor on several various Titans. The crew nearest to her was spraying a Titan down with black spray paint. Less reflective than IMC Silver. She grinned and walked over to the nearest crew member.

"Hey!" She shouted.

A boy turned to her, barely sixteen with no hair on his chin yet, his stare went wide eyed as he saw the badge on her arm. "Hey." Lena was impressed with how much his voice wobbled all over the place.

"Where can I find Titan... Kilo Sierra X-Ray?"

"Who?" His face scrunching in confusion.

"Kilo. Sierra. X-Ray. Scorch Titan, no hatch."

"Maybe over there I think?" He pointed to the other side of the building's floor.

"Thanks." Lena said flatly.

Sparks arced over her head as she made her away across the floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Scorch somewhere. A cart passed her with a Titan's arm across the bed being pushed by two workers. One of them shouted at her to get out the way followed a hasty "Ma'am." Lena let it go and kept looking.

Finally, there was a Titan covered by a tarp that looked like a good option. Lena headed over and looked for the register. She'd seen enough Scorches feet to recognize one from experience. This one certainly looked right but with the tarp on there wasn't any way to be sure. Lena looked around for anyone nearby before she lifted up the tarp and looked underneath.

"Designation is Kilo Sierra X-Ray Six-Eight-Four-Three." The Titan's Betty OS introduced herself.

Lena studied the Scorch Titan. Most of the khaki coloring had been replaced on the arms and legs with black paint except for the most of the torso which remained a rusted khaki color with a black hatch. Black was used often on support Ttians attached to volunteer groups in lieu of the red used by Vanguards.

"So you're the Titan I'll be piloting from now on, huh?" Lena said blandly.

"Voice recognition verified. Welcome back Pilot Darragh. It has been fifteen days since our last uplink together."

"The pleasure's all mine, I'm sure."

"Modifications and repairs have been made to my system since our last uplink, Pilot. Please embark to confirm changes."

Suddenly, the Scorch Titan stepped forward pulling the tarp aside. It was then that Lena noticed a large cable tethered to the top of the Scorch. She took a few steps back as this 20 foot tall behemoth took another step forward. It's pace looked like the Titan was about to crush her and Lena gritted her teeth as this IMC Titan would finish the job it started in Nexus.

There was a jolt from the cable above and the Scorch fell to one knee in front of her with a crash, knocking her back. Shouts came from all over refurb building as assembled crewmen rushed over. Multiple voices called to see if anyone was injured.

When Lena looked up, she could see the lifeless eyes of the Scorch above her. A faint green glow came from the Titan, and as few gloved hands grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out, she saw it was the Titan's battery clutched to the cable.

"Just what in the name of hell were you think jockey?" An angry woman's voice pierced over the rest.

Lena snapped her head over to the direction of the voice. A woman in her forties in a thick stained coverall towered over her. She stabbed a finger at Lena's chest. That snapped Lena back and she yanked her arms away from crewmen holding her up.

"Magistrate's orders, I'm here for," Lena nodded towards the Scorch, "that Titan."

The woman in charge looked at Darragh's insignia on her arm and then back at her, "You're in the Fourth Pioneers. You steal Titans, not drive them."

"Not while the Militia are still coming." She looked around at all the mixed looks and then added. "Look it's not up to me. If you got a problem with it, the Magistrate's just across the yard."

The woman stared at Lena for a long moment before she leaned her head to one side and shouted, "Rich?"

"Yeah, Pullman?"

"Go run over and ask the Magistrate if we're giving every Jockey from here to New Nantucket a Titan."

"Now?"

"Yes, Rich – now. Ya got grease in your ears?"

"On it." Rich called back and took off.

"Alright, the rest of you back to work! I need a Titan crew to get this one upright." Then she said to Darragh, "You, my office."

Her office was a screen of sheet metal and a desk held up by a thin frame of boards. The tag on the desk said Pullman, a rather uncommon name. Pullman tugged her gloves off and dropped them on the desk. She grabbed a cup of steaming brown liquid and took a sip. It smelled like root tea.

Pullman sighed, "So you're the Pilot of Kilo, huh?"

"I killed their last Pilot and stole it so the Vanguards could use it's parts." Lena answered coldly. "Why wasn't it scrapped?"

"Do you know how often we get complete Titans around here?" Pullman asked her gruffly.

"No," Lena said disinterested.

"Not a lot," Pullman said, "so when a complete Titan knocks on my doorstep just missing a hatch. That just really makes me smile." Pullman did not smile.

"That thing killed three of my crew. You didn't have to scrap it but I sure as hell didn't want to pilot it. If wasn't for the Magistrate..." Lena left her sentence unfinished, her point clear.

Pullman made a dry chuckle, "It's not the same as a gun is it? Pull a gun off a Silverback, don't even blink. If that gun talked though – different story. I'll tell ya somethin' Jockey. That Titan ain't no different than a tractor, a loader, or even a Gremlin. Hate the Pilot, keep the Titan."

"That what I keep telling myself."

"It helps," Pullman put down her tea and clapped her hands. "Alright! If I'm gonna have more of you Jockeys around better get started now."

Lena sighed, "Right..."

Darragh followed Pullman again back to Kilo as it was being realigned and the battery core refitted. Despite the Titan's outward appearance as a tool, as Pullman put it, Lena still didn't trust the thing. A tool didn't have to care what it did, that's what it was designed to do.

The battery finally snapped into place as Kilo's core powered up with a deep hum. Their lights flickered on and Kilo moved one of their hands into a fist. "Kilo Seirra X-Ray Six-Eight-Four-Three online and ready for tasking."

"Thata girl." One of the mechanics patted the leg of the Titan and gave Pullman a thumbs up.

Kilo searched the room with their "eyes" before it landed on Darragh. The Titan lurched forward and put a step towards Lena. She fought the urge to run and hide as this 20 foot tall machine came towards her. Darragh stood her ground and Kilo with surprising gentleness, knelt down in front of her.

"Modifications and repairs have been made to my system since our last uplink, Pilot. Please embark to confirm changes."

Pullman suddenly slapped Lena on the back, "Go get 'em, Jockey."

"Wait," Lena stopped, "what is it am I supposed to do?"

"Climb in and link up." Pullman thumbed towards the cockpit.

"That's it?"

"Oh yeah – it's not like the old days, things are very streamlined now."

"Huh." Lena said simply and hopped onto one of the Scorch's legs and then into the cockpit. She stopped on the lip and looked around the seat of the Titan. Memory of the struggle with the IMC only two weeks ago floated to the top of her mind. She sighed and sat down in the chair.

"Synchronizing to Pilot." Kilo stated.

The hatch shut and lights flicked on inside. Lena twisted her head back and forth as green lights in the cockpit hatch flared up brightly. The light was so bright that even with her eyes closed it manged to pierce her eyelids. Her brain with tingling like hitting your elbow and then the light was gone. For a second after, she couldn't see and then her vision returned. Blurry eyed, Lena clutched her head.

"What the hell was that?"

"Pilot synchronization complete. All systems confirmed." Kilo announced.

" _That_ was the easy part!" Pullman answered.

"It's like someone put an Arc grenade in my brain," Lena shook her head to clear the feeling.

"Yep, I've heard that before." Pullman might have laughed but Lena wasn't sure.

With her eyes finally clear, Lena looked about the room. It took a second, but she realized that the Titan was rotating itself to accommodate her field of view. She wasn't sure how the Titan was doing it.

"How is it doing this?" Lena asked.

"Most of the synchronization stuff is built into the hatch of most cockpits. So you correctly ID'ed it before with it's maintenance code but with out a complete link it could never fully integrate with your person." Pullman lectured.

"So, that means what?"

"It means, that Titan, is now a natural extension of your body. It also means that the longer that link of yours is in place, the better you and it will fight together."

"Good," the idea did bring her some satisfaction, "then we'll have to kill a lot of silverbacks together."

"That's the idea. Well, since you already know how to move a Titan, we get to move straight to the fun part and do some drills."

"Wait, with you?" Darragh was surprised.

"'Course. When I said I have to train you jockeys what didja think I meant?" Lena watched as Pullman walked across the refurb building to another Titan. It was an Atlas stylized in red paint and purple accents around the cuffs. As she approached, she called out her Titan's name and it's core awoke with blinking blue lights. The Titan offered it's hand for Pullman to step on and it gently lifted her up to the cockpit. "The best way to learn how to fight in a Titan is to fight a Titan."

Pullman sealed her hatch and walked over to Lena. Her Titan moved with a kind grace that Lena had never seen in the field. Pullman's Titan stepped over obstacles and leaned around cranes with ease and flexibility. The movements were so natural that the thing might have been human. Pullman stopped her Titan in front of her's and opened the hatch, her voice more personal now and not projecting over the refurb building.

"We'll be fighting with the two lock rule. One lock, your shield's gone. Second lock – you're dead." As Pullman said this, her Titan formed a one then a two with it's fingers. "Understood?"

"Sure," Lena said then sighed, "fuck."

"Hah, you'll be fine," Pullman said shutting her hatch, "better to learn and die in training, then to learn nothing and die for real."

Pullman's Titan wheeled towards the large opening of the refurb building and motioned Lena to follow her. Lena reluctantly began to move Kilo forward. As she followed Pullman, the chief continued to lecture.

"Three basic rules of Titan combat. Armor, firepower, and mobility. Armor dictates how many hits you can take. Body shields help but a good salvo can melt that shield and leave you vulnerable. Always be aware of your Titan's armor, it's you and them now. Firepower dictates your rhythm in combat. What weapon your Titan has will determine how you fight and how long you can fight. Take your Scorch for example. The Thermite Launcher fires a single canister that splashes an area with thermite. Good at burning crops and people, bad against Titans."

Lena felt a knot in her stomach at that last comment. Scorch Titans were the result of the IMC's scorched earth doctrine that had ruined most of Harmony. Yet their own view on resources meant that she had to use it for Harmony. Lena would have to quash these feelings, Harmony must always come first.

"Last is mobility," Pullman continued, "it's directly opposite of armor. More armor, less mobility and vice versa. How you deal with an opponent's mobility will depend on your armor, firepower, mobility. But seeing is believing as they say. Here."

They had arrived outside and Pullman handed Lena what looked like a toy 40-mm Cannon. Her Titan took it and on screen it registered as a VA-TW. A Virtual Assist – Titan Weapon. So, they weren't actually going to slug it out. Interesting.

"Okay, last part and then no more talking. As you can see these are virtual assist weapons. They won't kill ya but their advanced IFF will trick your Titan into thinking it's actually taking damage. See?"

Pullman fired her VA at her. Her Titan's shield registered as disabled and warning chimes sounded. "Warning, our shield has been disabled. Seek cover." Kilo's OS said.

It was sudden and it shocked her at first but after the initial shock was over, Lena got it. There was no impact from the kinetic energy of being hit by a real shell. All she'd get from this was how not to get to hit and with the size of Kilo...

"Alright," Lena said, "I think I get it."

"Good. I'm gonna go seek a position inside the training ground then you come and find me. Push yourself to the limits! Learn, adapt, overcome!"

With that, Pullman wheeled her Titan around and ran off into the training ground. Lena observed the training ground. It was a series of open spaces and trenches with log houses at certain intervals. Her Pilot instincts with fighting Titans saw this as a bad space to fight in. No cover meant that the ability to out maneuver a Titan was non-existent. Even more so now as a slow Scorch.

"Ack, what was it that she said? Armor, weapon, mobility? Learn, huh? This hardly seems fair." Lena mumbled to herself.

She put Kilo in gear, Pullman already significantly had a good head start on her. Lena elected to take the trench route over the open terrain. It looked deep enough for her to cover most of her bulky Titan. However, each footfall made her wince as the Scorch's weight made each thump audible. There was no way she was going to sneak up on Pullman.

She walked cautiously along the trench until she came to a "T" junction. She had two choices, left or right. Pullman could be on either end of these waiting to ambush her. Lena gritted her teeth and pushed towards the right.

For a second, nothing happened and Lena thought she'd made the right call. Then her shield disappeared. The warnings chimes taking her by surprise. She had no idea where that shot came from and so she panicked. Lena boosted her Titan down the trench to try and get away but another second later, her Titan registered the second hit and declared that the hull had been breached.

A few seconds later when the systems restored, Pullman's cockpit cam popped on screen. "Your dead rook. What'd'ja learn?"

"Ambushes are bullshit," Lena snapped but then sighed, "No, wait. You must've known I'd take this route where I'd be better protected."

"But..."

"But," Lena spring boarded off the word, "it pinned my mobility?"

"Correct. Okay, go back and start again."

This time, Lena would try the open ground section. The boosts on the Scorch could only do a single bound before their recharge. She'd have to boost between houses until she could find Pullman. Taking off again from the starting position, Lena ran Kilo to the nearest house. Her shields still intact, Lena boosted Kilo from cover quickly across the open ground. It was frustrating without the sound of a report from Pullman's rifle. So much of her work as a Pioneer revolved around finding an enemy Titan with her eyes and ears.

"That's it." Lena smirked.

She opened Kilo's hatch and dropped onto the mud. Pullman was in ambush which meant, she couldn't move and behind cover, Kilo couldn't be hit. Lena's smirk persisted as she climbed the logs of the house and peered over the top. Titan's were 20 feet tall, so that narrowed down where Pullman could hide. Second, it had to be visible of the right trench. Which meant that she was behind a house on the left...

"Shit!" Lena quickly clambered down from the log house as her revelation coincided with sound of a Titan's movemet. She jumped onto Kilo's top, intending to use his arms to jump back inside, when the Scorch's hand reached up and gently grabbed her. As the Titan was placing her inside, Pullman came around the corner and shot her Titan. Just as the screen was about to flick on, Kilo registered a hull breach again. Lena tightened her fists and let out a frustrated growl.

"Not bad!" Pullman congratulated her.

"Thanks but I still died."

"True but in training, not for real. Tell me, why did you leave your Titan?"

"My Titan's ability to move was at a disadvantage. You were emplaced and without sound I couldn't find you, so I had to use my senses as a Pioneer to find your Titan and then fix you."

"Very good," Pullman was clapping, "you have a lot of potential Pilot."

Lena scoffed, "Yeah, you think so?"

"Yeah – wait! Do you hear that?"

"I don't hear..." But as Kilo's systems recovered a faint whine could be heard. Two weeks without IMC still hadn't dulled her hearing and she knew right away it was a Phantom but where was it?

"It's too low, I can't place the direction." Pullman said concerned. "Trainings over rook, back to the refurb for real guns!"

"Kidding me!?" Lena put Kilo in gear and ran after Pullman's Titan.

The faster Atlas had already left her slower Scorch behind. The crew chief was already on the emergency channel calling for the base to lockdown. Lena boosted as often as she could to keep up but Pullman was already at the refurb building being met by the base Titans. Another Titan joined her from inside the refurb and handed Pullman's Titan an XO-16.

"Is it really the IMC?" An Ogre Pilot asked.

"I don't recall us having an air presence." Pullman slapped in a drum.

"Agh, damnit." The Ogre raised it's gun at the sky.

Lena could see that he was aiming too high, "Don't hold it so high. The Phantom is going to be past your gun before you even see it. You're gonna want to hold it the other way anyways."

"Oh, sure." The Ogre Pilot cleared his throat.

"There!" Pullman shouted as the Phantom rushed overhead.

The fighter fired it's rockets over the roof of the refurb building. Lena watched as the white and orange Phantom looped back around and began firing with it's main guns at the assembled Pilots on the ground. The Ogre was struck first by it's machine guns that quickly burned through it's shield. Lena recalled Pullman's lesson on two locks. Still alive but just barely, the beat up Ogre raised it's XO and fired in an arc after the Phantom. Each of the tracers fell too far behind the speeding Phantom to hit it. Then the unsettling noise of the drum clicked empty.

"S-shit!" The Ogre Pilot stammered as his Titan fumbled to reload the XO-16.

"Darragh!" Pullman shouted.

Lena swiveled her attention to Pullman.

"When I give the signal shoot that Phantom with your VA!"

"That's insane!" Lena fired back.

"Just trust me. This old lady still has some tricks up her sleeve."

Lean saw that Pullman was already setting up her XO in a position that was no where near the Phantom. It didn't make sense but Pullman was in charge here and there was the Magistrate to think about. When the Phantom returned on it's vector, Lena pulled the trigger on her VA. The IFF struck the Phantom and the pilot suddenly veered left, right where Pullman was aiming. The Chief fired striking the cockpit and fuselage of the fighter. The shots weren't enough to destroy the Phantom but the hits had critically weakened it that the Pilot had to strafe off from his attack.

"That was incredible." Lena watched the Phantom pull back.

"Pilots tend to veer left when in trouble. Little trick I picked up a couple years back. But enough about that, there shouldn't be any IMC left – let alone a lone wolf Phantom."

"Yeah, this sector was supposed to be clear." Lena said partly in shock,

"It ain't anymore. Let's get you a real weapon rook. I have a bad feeling, that wasn't the only attack planned."

Pullman's Titan went inside the refurb building and came back out with a Thermite launcher and a bandolier of canisters. Lena took the Thermite Launcher and the Titan automatically attached the bandolier onto it's chassis. Kilo snapped the Thermite Launcher open and slid in a canister of thermite. Despite her misgivings earlier, Lena felt pretty powerful in that moment.

"Let them come."

Another window popped up on her screen as a dirty gaunt faced man in silver and white armor glared at them. "I can't believe we lost to hicks like you but we will avenge our fallen from Nexus!"

"What was that?" Lena wondered before a burst of light from an AOD gun crackled on.

"Plow me sideways, that's our AOD gun!" Pullman said.

"Thomas!" Lena said running Kilo to the stop of a defensive wall.

"You! In the Ogre. Can you fight?" Pullman marched her Titan up to his.

"Uh, yeah. My armor's beat up but my shield still works." The Ogre Pilot said.

"Good, here's the plan. You and I will provide a base of fire for Pilot Darragh as we work up on that hill. Darragh, you get in close and burn the fuckers."

"Can we make it? It's two miles of open ground." Lena observed cooly.

"Nothin' to it rook. Just keep moving and don't let them fix you." Pullman's Titan pulled beside her on the wall and pointed at the AOD gun as it began slowly aim towards the compound. "Ready?"

Lena took a deep breath, "Yeah, for Harmony."

Pullman's Titan clenched it's fingers into a fist, "For Harmony."

The Chief vaulted off the defensive wall and her Titan took off running with Lena not far behind. They were soon joined by the Ogre as his injured Titan was barely able to keep up. At about halfway, Pullman stopped her Titan, sighted it's battle rifle and squeezed a burst into the trenches around the AOD gun. Lena kept moving, boosting as often as her Titan allowed. There was another burst of fire from the Ogre. Darragh could barely make out the white helmets that were ducking behind the trenches the volunteer's had dug just that day.

These were men and women who had survived six years of occupation only to die from these remnants in their final act of desperation. There was no justice on the Frontier, if good people died from evil people like this. Just a little closer and she'd burn them like they deserved.

Another burst of fire from Pullman and the Ogre and Lena was finally in range to throw thermite at the IMC. She lifted the launcher up and aimed it's arc to land inside the trench around the AOD gun. The canister hit the trench wall and exploded outward painting a swath of trench in deep orange fire. Grass around the impact site caught ablaze but Lena was reward with one white uniformed Marine pat himself down before his grenade cooked off. The IMC responded with Archers. Three of them lifted over the trench wall before she could reload.

"Warning lock on detected. Recommend using Thermal Shield to neutralize threat." Kilo advised her.

"Thermal shield!?" Lena repeated.

In response, a graphic on the bottom portion of the screen displayed the left lever and the red button atop the trigger flashed. Lena pressed it and Kilo's left arm projected outward as a round shield of fire came out. The hand rumbled and shook as the three rockets detonated harmlessly from the high temperatures. Kilo's hand returned to reloading the Thermite Launcher.

Lena began to laugh darkly from the feeling of superiority, "You see that? I'm coming for you!"

The AOD gun was now in position to fire on the forward command and the IMC Marines fled from the trench as Lena fired a canister as she marched over it.

"Use that fist of yours and burn the fire control!" Pullman radioed.

"With pleasure!" Lena said and fired up the thermal shield again and burned a hole into the side of the AOD gun. The IMC inside were quickly silenced as the gun fritz and malfunctioned. Kilo's fist scrapped against the side of the burned out hole as the barrel of the AOD gun fell silent.

Lena popped open her hatch and dropped down into the dirt. The air smelled just like the Nexus did that day. She would never forget the smell for as long as she lived. There was a cough and an IMC Marine stumbled through the smoke from inside the AOD gun's control room. He'd apparently surrived and pulled out his Hammond pistol.

"Goddamn hicks! We should've just burned this planet to the ground!" It was the man from screen from earlier. His pistol shook violently in his hands as he aimed it at her.

Lena calmly man raised her arm, her fingers in the shape of a gun. "Kilo." She ordered. The last sound that IMC Marine heard was the sound of Kilo firing his Thermite Launcher.

Darragh hadn't watched, she was already looking for Thomas and the other volunteers. As she dropped into the trench, she found them. The IMC had piled them into a corner. They had all been shot. She remembered what they said about the IMC and taking prisoners. They didn't but from what she saw, Thomas and the others must've been taken unaware or tried to surrender and were shot. The IMC had taken so much from them already what were a few more?

The thought immediately made Lena sick and guilty. She bent over in the trench like she had to retch but a few dry heaves later it passed. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and climbed out.

"Titan. Sit." Lena ordered her Titan.

It complied and Lena pulled out her data-knife and began to scrape it against under the cockpit hatch. She had to make several passes at it but eventually, she carved the name "Thomas" into the chassis of her Titan. She hadn't learned the other's names before and guilt washed over her. So instead she carved her team's names from Nexus.

Yants.

Zandy.

Nolan, who had died in the mortar pit.

By the time she was done, her data-knife was dull from use. It could probably still hack but it would never cut again. She slipped the knife back into it's scabbard as Pullman and the Ogre Pilot joined up with her.

Pullman and the Ogre Pilot opened their hatches and joined her. Silently and instinctually, they made several cairns for each of the Volunteers next to the AOD gun. No one talked, they just sat by the dead passing around canteens. Slowly, behind them, a red sun set over the fields of Harmony.


	8. Chapter 7 - Corbyn

_Hi all, I hope you're enjoying the story so far! There's a little explanation at the end regarding some lore points in this chapter. Thanks again for reading and constructive criticism or messages are always nice._

* * *

"Cabal"

New Pretoria System

IMS Gibraltar

2698, November 14th

* * *

The Goblin Mark II appeared out of it's jump off the port side of the IMS _Gibraltar_. Tanvir stood upon the mezzanine of the Malta-class Battleship and watched over the deck guns at the oncoming General's arrival. Everything had been readied for General Dance's visit to the _Gibraltar_. Natalia had pulled some favors with Colonial High Command and they had pored over his file. She'd take care of the important parts and Tanvir would guide the good general through the numbers.

Two Phantoms pulled out from their patrol and joined the Goblin on it's approach. Corbyn had made sure that everything should be made to impress. Every Goblin in the Gibraltar's hanger bay was gleaming. All the hands had been given extra rations and in particular, the Marines, who now lined the hanger bay in good order. Even the broadsides were fully manned by their crews of five.

"This is Viking Five, we have Mariner on approach. Requesting hanger to standby."

"Copy Viking Five, Mariner is cleared for approach." A Liaison said below.

Tanvir watched excitedly as the Goblin pulled in close by the hull, giving Dance an excellent view of it's splendor. The _Gibraltar_ was an impressive ship, possessing 6 M-25 B (broadside) for ship to ship engagements or for landing support. It also housed 16 AA turrets in total, deployed on the top and bottom of the hull with an additional 8 around the engine block. In addition to its firepower, the battleship also came with a primary hanger of 30 Goblin MK I dropships. The Mark I's were smaller squad sized dropships compared to the Mark II's that were able to carry more men plus their supplies. Still, it did allow the _Gibraltar_ to deploy up to 240 Marines. Tanvir had explicitly left the out Spectre racks. The extra charge stations would've kept the _Gibraltar_ in dry dock for another two months. Regardless, the _Gibraltar_ was an all purpose battleship.

Natalia entered the bridge escorted by her attendant, Aurora. His wife's attendant was normally had an easily forgettable face but now she bore a distinct resemblance to Dance's late wife. It was a useful talent of Aurora's to use her incredible skills as an actor to grab pieces of people's personality. It made her indispensable as a spy.

"Is all ready?" Natalia asked.

"Yes, dear." Tanvir answered and in his mind El Cascabel's lively rhythm played as he took each step down from the mezzanine.

He watched through the window below as Dance's Goblin was brought down perfectly on mark in front of the hanger's main holo-projector. As it did so, Dance's Marine Division Insignia the 99th Hell Divers lit up inside. On either side of the projector's tier's were a platoon of Marines with the ship's Titan Pilots on the flanks, followed by deck hands, and so on so forth down the ranks. The Grunts would enjoy being in first tier for today much to the Pilot's annoyance but friendly competition was good for a ship's crew.

Natalia gave Aurora some last minute instructions and then turned and smiled to her husband. He offered her his elbow and the two strode down the stairs from the bridge towards the hanger bay. Even from up here, the sound of the 99th regimental march was echoing off the hull of the ship and reverberating off the wings of the Goblins all lined in their hangers.

Tanvir grinned, "Wonderful isn't it?"

"Quite. Is it Tchakrulo or Beethoven's fifth?"

"Hm? Oh! El Cascabel." He chuckled.

She patted his arm playfully, "Save some of that energy for later, Admiral."

They arrived at the end of the stairwell. From their vantage point they could see the whole of the hanger as the Marine Commander presented his troops for the General's inspection. Tanvir pulled from his wife's arm and leaned both hands against the railing. He watched as Dance whirled the Marine's 101-C with expert percision.

"And how do you find them, General? Up to your standards, I trust?" Corbyn interrupted the General's inspection.

Dance searched and found Corbyn on the stairwell and nodded his approval. Dance returned the 101-C to the Marine and dismissed the Marine Commander, who in turn dismissed his troops. The Colonial Navy had always enjoyed good relations with their Colonial Marine counterparts. Tanvir and his wife met the General at the hangar floor at the end of the stairs.

"You have good Colonel and a fine warship, Admiral." Dance said politely.

"I think you'll find the Gibraltar to be an excellent ship, General." Tanvir shook Dance's hand. " Of course, there are only three of her kind that have been built from the Artemis dockyards."

Elias Dance whistled, "If only Auchenburg had one of these, he might still be in control of Harmony."

"Oh I don't think so," Tanvir said dismissively with a wave of his hand, "Auchenburg lost Harmony through his own failings."

"As a Marine I'd like to hear your thoughts on that." Dance commented.

"I'm sure you would." Tanvir remarked, "Admiral did you know that this ship and the Malta have something very much in common?"

"What would that be?" Dance looked quizzically.

"I'll tell you. They were both constructed from surviving materials of the _Sentinel_."

Corbyn was pleased with the General's reaction. Elias Dance looked somewhere between shocked and amazed. Graves' old command ship had fallen when the Militia terrorists had assaulted the Artemis Shipyards. The carrier had been stripped and repurposed on site. There had been enough materials to make two of the new battleships at the time of Graves' command. Their original names were to be _Indomitable_ and _Resolute_ by the IMC Aerospace division but Corbyn swayed them to rename them after something more familiar. Thus the _Malta_ and _Gibraltar_ came to be. Naturally, Tanvir had pressed his political power to acquire and refit the _Gibraltar_ for his own. His former flagship given to Francis as a gift for his loyalty and friendship.

"Well, General," Tanvir continued, "shall I give you a tour of the battleship and then I thought we could dine after."

"Brilliant idea."

The tour had lasted an hour and it was a quick tour at that. They went from the hanger to the broadsides to the engineering and then to the engines themselves. A new jump design based on the _Colossus_ ' configuration that used a quarter less of the jump fuel than standard warships. An unfortunate but necessary step in these current times. From the engines they surveyed the air recycler and other important parts of a ship's life in space. Along the way, several of the crew addressed and salute him but also Dance, but to Corbyn's delight the Marines too. It was important to gaining Dance's trust that the Marines aboard the vessel be treated with as much respect as their General.

By the end of that hour, Corbyn had led him back to his personal cabin. It was there that Natalia had organized the food for the General. A lot of credits had gone into finding personal information on Dance to make his visit feel almost like home. Now, as Corbyn and Dance entered his cabin, they would see if it was credits well spent.

Natalia was just finishing up, brushing her hands together to clear some of the flour off them. Tanvir had no idea what she had cooking up and for his part was genuinely surprised. There in the center was perhaps the largest bread bowl of clam chowder he'd ever seen. Flanked on either side were large fillets of beer battered fish with accompanying fries and tartar sauce. Plates of crab cakes stacked. His wife smiled and pulled the pin from her bun, letting her hair fall to her shoulders.

"Ah! Just in time." Natalia said and circled around the table to give him a peck.

"This is wonderful, Mrs. Corbyn. Simply wonderful." Dance said graciously.

"Thank you, General."

"Please General, be seated." Corbyn said ushering his guest to a seat.

Him and wife sat down and Corbyn gently brushed some flour from his wife's cheek. Natalia blushed and smiled modestly. Dance surveyed the table and sighed. Corbyn wondered why the man simply just didn't eat.

"Well, General Dance, how do you find Naval hospitality?"

"I think," Elias said as he reached for a ladle and a bowl for the clam chowder, "that I couldn't bare to hear anymore about battleships today."

Corbyn chuckled, "I'm sure that if the good General would like, he could tell me all about the insides of a Paladin tank."

"It's true," Dance laughed, "I'll tell you there is nothing quite like being in the commander's hatch."

"Must be thrilling." Corbyn commented.

"I had the pleasure of commanding a Paladin division during the Titan Wars on Ganymede."

"Oh yes, the Jupiter Gate campaign," Corbyn recalled and then turned to his wife, "I believe you and I had just gotten married on Luna the month before, Natalia."

"The one good good part of that whole rough patch." She sighed.

Tanvir and her, in actuality, had relished the conflict. It had enabled them to gain considerable advantages and their early purchase of Hammond stocks. The Frontier had netted them billions by the time the insurrection had begun.

"Though I was in charge of the garrison after Graves had made his spirited defense." Dance admitted.

"Oh," Tanvir said disappointed.

"Yes, I was disappointed too. Seeing two-hundred tanks lined up in column is a sight to see."

"Well I could tell you about it. I served on the SSN Euphrates at the gate battle."

"Oh no, I've heard quite a bit about ships, I should like to taste..." At that moment, Dance had tasted the chowder and looked quite overcome with nostalgia.

"Why General, you look positively shaken. Are you quite alright?" Corbyn asked.

His wife's foot gently stroked against his leg. She was pleased with the effect, though he knew her face didn't show it. As a former intelligence officer of the Sol System Intelligence Bureau, Natalia's skill at determining what people were after was remarkable. It was that very skill that led her to him after all.

"Yes, it's just that this chowder tastes just like how I remember it on Ganymede..." Dance's face suddenly grew deeply concerned. "I – how?"

Natalia quickly swooped in, "It's an old recipe of my grandfather's. Some people collect mementos, he collected recipes."

 _Beautiful._ Corbyn smiled as if he was entertained by her grandfather's peculiar choice in souvenirs. He wasn't of course but Dance didn't need to know that.

"I have tried many times to have my chef recreate it but the taste was never right."

"Give me your net-address, I'll send it to you." Natalia offered.

"That's very kind but I am curious..."

"Yes?" Natalia awaited Dance's question.

"Do you like games? Your husband seems to like poker quite a bit."

She laughed and leaned towards Tanvir, "Yes, he does. You should see him when he plays Shogi."

"How interesting." Dance commented.

"Do you play General?" Corbyn asked him.

"No, I'm more of football man myself, you see. I enjoy powerful kicks and long drives."

"Ever the tank commander I see, enjoy the wide open field I'm sure."

"Of course, though the Paladin is in it's twilight, it still sees limited action in the field." Dance frowned.

"They saw action on Demeter recently. I'm sure that was a major contribution." Tanvir didn't really believe it but felt compelled to at least to say it.

"What? Limited to defensive actions is not what I would call major, Admiral. Don't get me wrong, the Paladin is an antiquated, bloated, ineffective weapon that never should've been designed." The General laughed and bit into a crab cake.

"You know," Corbyn said with a twinge of skepticism, "such opinion sounds like defeatism."

Dance scoffed and sipped some wine.

"Well, perhaps not but tell me General, why did you come out here?" Corbyn asked.

"Ah, that is no secret, I choose to come out here." Dance replied.

"Yes but why?"

Dance put his glass down on the table, suddenly uncomfortable. _As he bloody well he should be._ Corbyn thought with some satisfaction. The good general should know why he was invited after all. Should he not accept, well there were always Militia raids to blame on his disappearance.

"I was... tired," Elias Dance began, "of how the Sol system ran itself into the ground. How we were denied the chance of revenge. I pleaded with Sol Command to allow us to keep driving forward past the gate. When I persisted too hard, I was forcibly... retired." The General swirled the wine in his glass.

"General... the Demeter Gate is gone..."

"Yes, Spyglass is working to restore it." Elias said absently, not making the connection.

"What if... it were to never come back online..."

Dance laughed, "Well we'd all be stranded here."

"Yes but who benefits from the most from the gate being repaired?" Tanvir said earnestly.

"I – I don't understand. We, the IMC, do. Surely?"

"Come now Dance, you don't truly believe that."

"Well you certainly have some minerals, don't you Admiral?"

Corbyn laughed heartily at that. _So the good General did have some sense after all. That was good, he would need that sense._

"Yes, I suppose I do. Though, you said so yourself, the IMC is bloated, antiquated, and ineffective I believe."

"I did not say that!" Dance declared.

"Come now, we're all disappointed by the Phantom's performance and it had the same political interference. Now, the IMC will do the same to the Frontier as the Sol System government did to itself."

"So you are a Dorsenist. I should've known." Dance stood up from the table.

"A Dorsenist? Hardly." Tanvir smiled very polite. "I'm an opportunist."

"What's the bloody difference!?"

"Do sit, General." Natalia ordered the General. Ice thick in her voice.

"You can't order me," Dance growled.

"No, she's quite right. Do sit." Tanvir sipped at his wine.

Elias looked from Corbyn to Natalia, fear and anger intermixed with the alcohol. Corbyn calmly began to eat his clam chowder. Dance was right it was delicious. Beside him, Natalia huffed. She was insulted that the food she worked hard to prepare was not being consumed as she planned. The emotion was real of course but it was all for show. Dance had to believe Natalia had been slighted by his accusation.

"You are our guest, sir." Natalia said enunciating every word. "Please, sit."

"If you would, sir." Aurora said coming in from the door with a tray of wine.

Dance turned and then did a double take. Corbyn's poker face held firm. He held all the cards over Dance who'd walked into a game he had no chance of winning. The General soften and his gaze held onto Aurora. The girl smiled and nodded politely in her serving uniform, her bow low so her features could be seen clearly by Dance.

"Yes... quite right..." Dance muttered as he slowly sat back in his chair. His eyes fixed on Aurora as she replaced the bottle.

"Thank you." Natalia said relieved.

After a long moment, Dance finally spoke up, "So... what is this opportunity you speak of?"

"Spyglass has left us vulnerable. When it took the remainder of the Demeter Defense Fleet and departed, Graves' Militia wasted no time in striking convoys and raiding worlds under our control. Now the Colonial Command bickers and fights over the empty vacuum. People like Auchenburg, who transmitted to Spyglass for reinforcements instead other Generals, only perpetuate this problem. Dance, as it is now, we stand to lose everything we've gained. We must act boldly and decisively to turn our fortunes around."

Dance contemplated his words for a long time before he spoke, "You speak of an opportunity to avoid disaster."

"Precisely."

"Forgive me, that is not Dorsenist at all. What would you need from me?" Dance slowly sipped his wine; food completely forgotten.

"Your support. Politically and militarily."

Dance cleared his throat, "I see."

"We're playing at high stakes Dance. The chips are down and we may lose our seat at the table. To change our fortunes, we must stake everything on a winning hand. Don't you agree?"

The General nodded slowly and then said, "Yes."

"Good, then you understand that this is no longer an insurrection but an all out war with the Frontier."

Dance nodded slowly, "Yes, that is true."

"I believe that Colonial High Command is slow to realize or even appreciate that fact. It up to people like us to change the fate of the IMC."

"Do what has to be done." Dance said.

 _Good. Very good, General._ Corbyn grinned, "Precisely, sir."

"Yes, I'll help in that regard. But what did you mean of not completing the Demeter Gate before?"

Natalia answered for him, "You asked me before what type of games I like. Memory games, sir. I have a very long memory and a mind for details. The very problem with the restoring the gate is who benefits after it's completion."

"You're not suggesting we stop working on the one thing that will guarantee our reinforcements are you?" Dance said flabbergasted.

Natalia smiled, "Are you familiar with Cortes, the famous Spanish explorer of antiquity?"

"No, not really." The General replied confused.

"Upon reaching the Americas, burned his ships to send a message to his men. There is no turning back. The IMC will be more motivated to fight the Militia if they know there is no alternative."

"That's madness..."

"Not if they have a cause," Natalia smiled.

Dance watched as Natalia stood up and went over to a small holo-board and entered a few keys. Two square patches of camouflage appeared side by side. One with overall browner in tone and the other green. Corbyn stood out of the way so that Dance could see the title of the camo types.

"Demeter..." She said.

"Would you like to explain darling?" Corbyn asked.

"Of course. You see, General Dance, Demeter is the greatest defeat we've ever experienced. Compounded from our loss of one third of our air force. To regain our composure, we must turn Demeter from a symbol of failure to anger."

"With camouflage?"

"Correct. For obvious political reasons green is a taboo color for our troops but our equipment can be easily converted to reasonable tactical colors. Think of it, we can be the arms of vengeance for Demeter."

Dance chuckled, "The physical embodiment so to say."

"Yes, that's very good General." Corbyn said delighted. "You must use that for your speech when you present this."

"Yes," Elias mulled the thought over, "I see. So I support you, you support me?"

"That's right. The Marines and Navy still have a strong relationship but it's the other factions that I worry about. There's too many subsidiaries of the IMC and the Air Force suffered greatly at Persephone under Hood's control. Then there's the political situation with the Loyalists, Traditionalists, and Dorsenists. We have to unify them all."

"That's quite the task."

"It's a good thing I have the 'minerals' for it then."

"Indeed. Tell me though, once the IMC's been unified again would Spyglass still be in charge?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" Corbyn replied.

"Just no one's seen the Demeter Fleet in months. That's the whole reason for the divide in the first place."

"Yes, I see your point," Corbyn was tempted to appoint himself but these things had to be handled correctly, "if we are to reunify, it'd have to be under someone else."

"There is the Colonial High Command but it's been disorderly." Dance frowned.

"Let's save that problem for later. Getting everyone to the table will be difficult enough. For now, if you can get these new patterns accepted by Colonial Command, you and I can proceed further."

"Very well, Admiral. Then I should get going. There's a lot of considerations to take into account."

"I agree, there's much to do now. I'll see you out."

Dance and him walked back towards the hanger not saying anything at all. That was fine, it was perhaps for the best they don't speak at all in the halls of even his own ship. There were many ears and not all of them could be trusted.

They reached the entrance of the hanger and Dance stopped and turned to him. "Thank you for your hospitality Admiral. I think the Navy has a lot to offer."

"Indeed. The same can be said of the Marines. I look forward to our continued partnership."

The General saluted and Corbyn returned the gesture. After, Dance shook Corbyn's hand firmly. Elias Dance then descended the stairs to the awaiting Goblin Mk II on the VTOL pad. Tanvir watched the General leave before he returned to his quarter's dining area. They had finally started on the first steps towards their goal. From here on, every move would take them closer and closer. Once they got things moving with the Marines, they could focus on the Air Force, building their power base for the winning hand that would change the course of the war.

On his return, Aurora was clearing the table while his wife still ate some of the remaining food. Natalia quickly dismissed Aurora when she saw her husband. Aurora politely bowed and left the room. He walked up to his wife and brought his hands up to his wife's cheeks and she clasped her's over his.

"Missus Corbyn, we are now very much on course."

"Yes, we are darling." Her tone husky and eyes wide with longing.

Tanvir kissed his wife on the forehead. She'd done excellently this evening and slowly the music in his head began to return to the jovial trumpets and quick rhythms of El Cascabel. Her comments earlier about his energy returned and Corbyn pulled his wife's lips to his. It was a long warm tender kiss as Corbyn moved one hand along the crook of his wife's neck as the other pulled her closer around the waist. Her hands framed his face, holding him close. The taste of dinner was still on her lips as was the wine, adding to the taste of success.

As the guitars strummed faster, Corbyn tried to kiss her more briskly but Natalia held onto his lower lip. He chuckled and gently pulled on her hair forcing her head back. She giggled with excitment. Corbyn tilted his head and planted a deep kiss under her jaw. Her skin was soft and the smell of her perfume engulfed his senses. Natalia moaned as her hands through ran his hair. Tanvir trailed her jaw line with kisses until he reached her ear and gently nibbled her lobe. Natalia's moans driving him onwards.

Suddenly, her grip on his hair tightened and she pulled him back and pressed her lips and nose against his. He moaned and slid his arm up her back and gripped her shoulder. He matched her grip on his hair and the two of them held their faces together tightly until they needed to breathe. Finally at the last second, their lips broke into a series of rapid breathes.

"My word..." Natalia sighed contentedly.

"I love you darling." He said as they relaxed into each other's embrace.

Natalia laid her head on his shoulder nuzzling his neck. The pair rocked back and forth enjoying their moment. Neither said anything for minutes. Nothing need be more said on the matter. They had toiled and planned enough for now. Best to let the seeds of their labor take root for a little while.

Finally, he said, "I should get to work. There's speeches to write and an operation to plan."

"You're right, there are things that I should do too." She said placing her hand along his jaw and gently stroking Tanvir's cheek with her thumb.

He clasped her hand and gave it a light kiss. Slowly, they released from each other, hesitant right down to their finger tips. Corbyn reluctantly turned towards his personal planning room to do his work alone. He activated the music on his console and Queen of the Night came on. The operatic voice filling Corbyn's ear and invigorating him.

He punched on the holo-board console and keyed in a set of coordinates. The Freeport System materialized with planets and their orbits. It'd been weeks since Auchenburg had lost the planet and the fact that there was no plan in place to retake it was appalling. The tiny problems that had been around were now exasperatingly clear. With IMC presence at a minimum in the system, Militia forces could press the advantage and even be so bold as to attack the Artemis drydock in the outer reaches.

Spyglass had left them vulnerable by taking the carriers from Demeter. The navy was now dangerously overstretched in all Zones of Operation as was air support. The key now lay in a bold decisive battle that would shatter Graves' Militia and return to the fold a key sector of the Frontier. The news of Harmony had emboldened the Militia on a broad general offensive.

Corbyn punched out of the Harmony system and keyed in the sightings of the Annapolis. Six sightings filled the board from every quadrant of the Frontier and to every major shipping lane. It was impressive how much fuel the 1st Militia Fleet had if these reports could be trusted. The Annapolis was making jumps from the Yuma System to the Stillwater System then to Hastings and then with an incredible jump half way around the Frontier to the Sierra System. Tanvir was impressed, each of these was within one of the IMC quadrants.

"Clever Graves," Corbyn said aloud as the points formed an pattern away from Harmony. It was if the Militia were trying to advance in the opposite direction towards Columbia again. The System that housed the Hammond headquarters had been drastically reinforced since Graves' raid on the facility. If Graves drew their concentration there, it would further weaken their holdings around the Frontier. Corbyn observed the board and pulled up the dates. The earliest attack had occurred around October 30th. Harmony had been lost on the 24th, that gave Graves a gap of six days to receive and begin launching the general offensive.

Radio frequencies were slow over long distances. Tanvir keyed in the Harmony System again and focused on the planet Tortuga. It made more sense that the signal was intercepted from Smuggler's Bay and transmitted directly to the First Fleet. He believed that a direct line transmission was sent to Graves and before he could capitalize on Harmony, he was trying to hide his fleet movements. Corbyn nodded to himself and pulled up his Wrist-comm.

"Begin log. The day is November fourteenth, twenty-two-twelve. This day I am drawing up the plans for the return operation to Harmony. Working code name... Snowroof."

Corbyn smiled to himself. It was the opening he'd used to beat Francis with back at war college when they played Shogi. It was a good title for now. Tanvir spent the next few hours organizing fleet strengths and troop dispositions. What could be pulled from where, what ships were coming back from repairs, how many troops could be shuffled for an operation. The planning phase took a lot of work that most Admirals would let their general staff do it for them but Corbyn preferred doing things his way. Slowly, the holo-board began to fill with notes and small symbols for ships and aircraft.

He'd tested and retested a few plans of attack with projections. Under ideal circumstances, he was able to pin Graves' fleet against the gravity well of Harmony. Disabling a majority of his ships, letting the planet finish the job for him. The surprising boon of the operation was how quickly his ships could go to drydock and return to the fight. In his projections, every Militia ship that was lost was lost permanently.

Already well connected with the Aerospace Division, snuffing out the Harmony salient would secure their cooperation for the next part of his plan. If Dance came through as well, he would be in prime position to securing a political alliance with the Marines, Navy, and Hammond Aerospace. The more Loyalist factions like Vinson Dynamics and Hammond Robotics would require more persuasion. Military Governors, like Tarleton, would be key in bringing them to his side.

The door to the room opened and his wife appeared at the door way. Tanvir looked up at her and saw that she carried a cup of tea in each hand. He was grateful for the interruption as she came round the board and placed the cup gently next to him.

"I hope you don't mind." She said leaning against the holo-board.

"No," Tanvir rubbed one eye, "not at all. My mind was drawing towards inter-fleet politics."

"Good thing I rescued you then. I couldn't sleep."

Corbyn took a sip of the tea, "Did everything go well with Aurora?"

"Oh yes, she thinks that Dance has an interest in her."

"Good. You sure you won't be put out if he 'borrows' her for a few days here and there?"

"Not at all. I'm sure she'd at least find it refreshing."

"That's probably true." Tanvir agreed.

"Darling," Natalia's voice drew serious, "I know it's early but what happens if Hammond does arrive before expected?"

"You're right, it is too early to say. Rest assured, everything we've done up to now has in no way jeopardized us. Unlike Graves, there is no 'playbook' of which for Spyglass to throw accusations at us. All we've done is stop the bleeding, improved morale, hold the fleet together. Once we achieved the first phase, then the 'changes' will happen. When all players must show their hand."

Natalia smiled but then put a finger to her lips, "What of Francis? If he thinks you were to replace him, he could betray us."

"You don't think he could, do you? Francis?" Corbyn almost laughed. Francis was never one for far reaching plots.

"I think jealousy can change anyone."

Corbyn shrugged, "Nothing can be done until we know Dance can be trusted. After that, if Francis proves troublesome, we can discuss what steps to take."

"Thank you. I know you don't like it but I think we should be prepared."

"No, I agree. Francis' behavior at the gala was bothersome. We have to be able to take steps before he does something rash. The tricky part will be finding a suitable candidate to replace him. The navy must always be under our control."

"Wait darling," Natalia suddenly gripped the sides of holo-board, "can you bring up Graves' Spectre facility attacks before he struck at Columbia?"

Corbyn didn't answer but began punching up the Spectre facility attacks at the start of the Militia offensive. One by one the Spectre facilities began to propagate the board. Then he saw it. Yes, there it was, exactly the evidence he needed to present the Colonial High Command. He just had to test it first.

"I need to make a call immediately." Corbyn kissed his wife on the cheek and left the planning room.

* * *

 _Lore Note: In the 2nd art book, there's a render of a Goblin that has a bay much wider compared to the in game version which is much smaller and identical to the Militia Crow. So for reference, MK I is in game dropship, MK II is the wide bay variant in the art book._

 _Second, I cheated in regards to battleships. Personally, considering the naming conventions of the IMC Navy in the 2nd game, ship's are most likely named after ancient Greek battles (Thermopylae) or British battles in WW2 (Battle of Malta). Sadly, there was no battle of Gibraltar in WW2 but I liked the name and so I fudged the convention a little bit to fit the story. Also, battleships take about 4-5 years to make and so it's realistic to see them in the second game. I'd probably bite my fingers off if I kept myself in the box the first story fit into. However, it makes both stories feel more cohesive and impactful to see that something came of the Sentinel in my mind. The last thing I cheated on was the number of AA guns. Space is a 3D environment and only having them on the top is good for the action block style of level design, but this is fanfiction and I felt I could add some more gun pits over the hull of the ship to make it have more of a presence on the battlefield. Which will be important later on. ;)_


	9. Chapter 8 - Igor

"Old Foes"

Concord System

MCS Paul Revere

2698, November 16th

* * *

Igor Vabrinski smiled as his friend and former CO, Aubrey Sho'ko, gushed about her new finds in the Alcyoneus belt. Her decision to leave the Militia Navy wasn't unexpected. Igor knew she'd want to leave eventually and that his days as an XO had come to an end. Her departure had been bittersweet. She cried. Aubrey felt guilty about going and wanted him to come with her. He declined. The Navy had never been her place and that science was her place. Igor though, was a navy man through and through. His father had served and his grandmother before that. His father had come out on the IMC's G.I. Bill to start anew with the promise of the Frontier.

"... then we found microbe RNA and with cross reference of other sandstone samples from the belt, there's a likelihood that they were from the same origin!"

"And?" Igor asked completely lost, not understanding what any of what she said meant.

"And it supports the theory of panspermia, Igor!" She said as if it was blindingly obvious. "If we can trace all the samples back to a focal point, maybe we can find where all the life on the Frontier came from. We'll begin to understand why there's such a high proportion of habitable planets! Why there's Leviathans in the Badlands system and on the moon Persephone. Why Flyers exist on multiple worlds. It's exciting to think we might find answers to why we exist."

"You got all this from some rocks?" He arched a skeptical eyebrow.

"Noo, not just from some rocks. It's a team effort, we all contribute our knowledge to make an informed hypothesis."

"Sounds like you found your, Ma'am."

"You don't have to call me that anymore Igor, Aubrey's fine now."

"Force of habit." He grinned.

Aubrey rolled her eyes, "So tell me, how's Peter?"

"He's good, I got to listen to him snore last week."

Aubrey smiled, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it out. We were refueling at Custer-by-the-belt and I swear I tried to..."

"Bribe every Captain with a FTL engine. Yes, you've apologized before."

"You prick," Aubrey and him shared a chuckle. Their banter still like the good old days during the MacAllan Blitz. After she recovered Aubrey said, "I'm glad Lansford was there to preside though."

"I think he has a soft spot for weddings actually." Igor scratched his chin remembering when Peter and him were married on the _Wolcott_.

"Still," Aubrey pressed her cheek against her hand as she leaned on her desk, "you talked so little about Peter before I didn't know he even existed."

"I didn't know if I'd even see him again," Igor admitted, "it was better for me to just focus on the task at hand."

Aubrey groaned and slumped her head against the desk, "Now I feel really guilty for missing your wedding."

Igor laughed, he missed Aubrey's expressiveness and sighed, "It's fine. I know you did all you could. Actually, you know what?"

"Hm?" Aubrey sniffed from off screen.

"If you could name another mineral deposit after me that'd be great."

"How about Igorium?" She suddenly laughed, rising from the desk sliding her hair from her face.

"No thanks." He chuckled.

"Fine fine," she relented, "so tell me what's happening these days over there."

"Exercises. Do you remember Morrigan from the Solaris?"

"Not really..."

"He's the one that brought Graves over from the IMC. He's in charge of the Concord Squadron now, which itself is complicated because its part coalition, part Kodai, and part Militia."

"What does even mean?" Aubrey scrunched her face.

"Since the Second Fleet is being built on Concord, which is the de facto Coalition capital, it has to defend Coalition interests. But as the Second Fleet is also being funded by Kodai, which is also on Concord, under Coalition law, it has to defend Kodai interests as well, which may not always be on Concord. Then, because it's under Militia command, Graves theoretically can call it from Concord or Kodai to fight the IMC elsewhere, violating the interests of the other two partners of the Coalition."

"I don't understand at all." Aubrey shook her head. "How does that even happen?"

"No idea. Politics are way above my pay grade."

"How do you understand it at all, Igor?"

"I don't, they just tell me how it is and I follow orders. Such as how the whole squadron has to stay well outside the orbit of the planet because it might infringe on it's neutral status."

Aubrey sputtered, "What? That doesn't make any sense. It's literally building the second fleet!"

"It's complicated. Lansford has been trying to get Graves to come to Concord to sort the whole mess out but I don't think it would do any good."

"W-why's that?" Aubrey said, her grip on the conversation shaking. Igor enjoyed the reversal.

"Graves is ex-IMC, supported by Kodai and the Militia. Some of the Coalition partners don't like that. That the Militia might favor Kodai more than other members who may need it."

"This is why I stuck with astrophysics," Aubrey rubbed her temples, "all I need is the direction cosine vector of an orbital body and some general physical data with some position vectors and I can plot an orbit."

"I'll stick with basic propulsion mechanics, thanks." Igor said.

A knock came at his quarter's hatch and Igor turned as and the Boatswain saluted, "Thirty minutes to the exercise, sir."

"Thanks, Jonesy."

"Yes, sir." The Boatswain left.

Aubrey's interest seemed to return, "Exercise?"

"Mhm. Lansford has us running exercises to keep the men focused and morale up." Igor explained. "If you'll excuse me, Captain."

Aubrey smirked, "Sure. Take care of yourself."

Igor terminated the channel with Aubrey and settled his cover back on his head. The green Militia skull emblazoned with a white anchor running under it, symbolizing the Militia Navy. Formalized and restructured with Graves' experience, the Navy was growing to be a real fighting force. The commander initiative was training ex-pirates and civilian captains into actual disciplined sailors. However, the Second Fleet had a long way to go. It's bulk was made up of Militia, ex-IMC, civilians, or criminals turned sailor for any number of reasons. Most had come for the credits and the quiet posting. If a battle were to come to Concord, Igor preferred not to think of the consequences.

As Igor closed the hatch behind him and stepped onto the bridge, the boatswain snapped to attention and announced that the Captain was on deck. The whole bridge turned and followed suit. Igor missed the near invisibility as an XO and returned the salute promptly. He didn't have the same comfort with the Captain's chair as Aubrey did or Lansford's gift of speeches. Instead, he relied on his knowledge of how to do the job under him to help to guide him. It made the Revere more logistically oriented than anything else. The bridge crew returned to their duties and Igor accepted a datapad from his XO, Lance Oran.

"How we looking Lieutenant?" Igor swiped down the list of items on a checklist. Oran was an Old Salt, a term referring to pre-Frontier days of serving aboard the Tau Ceti Imperial Navy. The Lieutenant was in his late thirties with previous service on the _Arizona_ that had participated on the assault on Demeter, after that Oran was transferred over to the 2nd Fleet.

"Stable, sir." Lieutenant Oran reported. "All guns have been slotted for the exercise. Engineering will have us at the rally point in fifteen minutes."

"Stable?"

"Anywhere where it's sixty-forty the situation is tense but no scuffles yet."

Igor frowned. That wasn't good news. If the two groups couldn't work together they'd be struck from the exercise. "Which sections look like trouble areas?"

"Where'd you expect. Ensign Graff, said he wouldn't let the silverbacks near his gun control in the main battery and Chief Korojima divided her teams based on uniform in the AA pits."

"Okay, alert MARDET teams to stay on standby in case a fight breaks out." Igor instructed Lance. MARDET, also known as Marauder Detachment, was a platoon of Militia riflemen on standby to repulse boarding actions or conduct ship security.

"Hopefully they won't jeopardize the exercise." Oran added dimly.

"Easy, Lieutenant."

Igor returned the datapad to Oran and stood watching the main window of the bridge as the engines of the Birmingham-class destroyer began their reverse thrust to slow into position. Twenty five minutes before the exercise began. Aubrey would probably be playing with her jacket, smoothing it down or pulling the sleeves. Watching the task force come together with the assembling squadron 500 klicks away filled him with purpose. It was a calling, he hoped Peter would understand some day.

In five more minutes, he would begin the pre-engagement routine making sure all sections were on stand by. That would take about ten minutes just in time for Lansford's kick off speech regarding the objective of the exercise from his flagship _Wolcott_. The rules for the exercise were simple, lock ons would confirm kills. If killed, fighters would return to their ships but frigates and brick ships it would full stop engines and practice running damage control drills.

The basic principle of the drill was simple, test out the new Multi-Target Missile System for the new type of brick ships nicknamed "barges". It was hoped that the new MTMS system on the barges would be an adequate fighter cover system to free up the 2nd Fleet to pursue offensive operations away from Concord. Morrigan's fighter pilots would do their best to get past them and hit the Task Force's frigates. Once a lock was established, it would count as a hit and the ship would radio the fighter of the score.

Igor checked his watch, "It's time, Comms-officer, the horn."

"Aye, Cap'n. You're patched in."

He took a breath to ready himself, "All hands, this is the Captain speaking. All sections sound off on battle readiness."

The sound off took four minutes longer than it needed to and for an embarrassing amount of time, the _Revere_ was sitting at it's jumping off point. A fight had broken out in Graff's gun control and the Ensign had to be restrained. Igor wasn't pleased, without the experience of his main gun control officer, their main gun effectiveness was reduced. All Igor could do was carry on with the handicap and hope they wouldn't be struck too early from the exercise.

About 15 minutes later, the exercise was finally able to commence. From within radar range, Morrigan's fighters could be seen on their approach. Igor couldn't see it just yet but he knew that it was a mixture of both Phantoms and Hornets in his air squadrons. The Hornets were more maneuverable and overall a better fighter but the Phantoms had better strafing and smaller silhouettes.

His bridge came alight with shouts and reports as the fighters entered visual range. The barges began painting targets and the comm-channel was awash with both ships and fighters. Igor watched as Squadron A, comprised of mostly Phantoms had struck several hits on the Task Force's Frigates and two of the barges. The IMC pilots were doing a good job of avoiding lock ons. Squadron B was heading towards the center where the _Revere_ was stationed.

"Captain, multiple air contacts."

"Keep her steady near barge two-two." Igor ordered.

"Aye."

"Three splashes. Two from Em-Tees, one from our AA's. Rocket's hit on our bow portside between decks three through six." A liaison continued to report.

"Damage control teams, assess the damage and report." Igor brought up his watch and started a count down timer. Damage control had around three minutes to seal and stable the decks.

"Splash four more fighters. One Em-tee, three AA's."

"Who's hitting?" Igor asked the Liaison.

"Crews five, eight, and twelve."

He tucked that information away.

"Captain," Oran turned to him, "damage control reports that the breach couldn't be contained. The rocket compromised the hull, crippling our bow. The hit was right at the hull support."

 _He instructed his pilots to target right at our structural weakness, didn't he?_ Igor had hoped they survive a little longer. He checked his watch and saw that three minutes had passed. "All crew on decks three through six, bow port side, you're dead. Stand down for the duration of the exercise. Remaining crew, attach your helmets to your pressure suits to simulate low oxygen environment. Engineering, bring us to a dead stop. Oran, Deploy red flare."

"Aye." The Engineering Ensign and XO reported.

The _Revere_ stopped moving. Igor took the moment to attach his own helmet. It was an old fashioned Kodai helmet with a thick visor, it's bright orange stark contrast to the olive green of his Militia uniform. The helmet snapped into place and Igor could hear himself breathe.

"Status?" He called.

"Morrigan's air squadron is in retreat but our sector lost two frigates and three barges."

Igor turned to the holo-board. The raid was a success for the raiders. For a score of five ships, Morrigan lost around eight fighters.

"Sir," Oran handed him a datapad.

Igor took it and studied the information. The AA crews had gotten into a fight over the exact lines Igor had feared they would. Militiamen were already there trying to break it up but it wasn't abating fast enough.

"Who's in command of that squad?"

"Fairwyn." Oran reported.

Igor's face was now a permanent grimace. He'd known everyone on the _Montana_ and had grown to know how to work with them. He was a new Captain on a different ship with different rhythms and styles. _If only this was an IMC ship._ Igor thought ruefully to himself.

"Can he handle it?" Igor asked.

"She – maybe."

Igor sighed and had the urge to run a hand through his hair. "What would you recommend Lieutenant? You've been aboard the _Revere_ longer than me."

Oran made a small nervous chuckle and grinned, "Just by a week, sir."

"Yes, working with the repair crews, checking the manifests, reviewing personal files. You were here when the _Revere_ was being outfitted."

"True, sir, but I don't have one of those." Oran refered at the Pirate Banner medal on his chest.

Lansford had presented the pin to all personal who had been involved in at least three major operations. Igor had been involved with the refueling raid on Victor, the Artemis shipyard raid, and the Airbase Sierra attack. Not to mention the assortment of other minor bars that were pinched onto his uniform. There was the 1st fleet bar, of green and yellow stripes. The Fracture bar, of the same Militia green but with white stripes. Abreast to it was the Artemis Raid bar with grey and red stripes and next to it was the ship lost bar for the Montana of purple and yellow. Last was the Persephone attack bar of green and brown. The pin and four bars were the brainchild of Graves, hoping to legitimize the Militia Navy. Igor also knew full well that bars and pins didn't make up for experience.

"You're kidding yourself if you think these give me anymore insight into how this ship is run. Besides, you've got the Demeter Assault bar, that's a major combat action, Lieutenant." The Captain reminded his XO. "The _Revere_ went under the same shuffle as the rest of the Task Force did when it went under repairs. I was in your place not too long."

"Yes, sir." Lance nodded.

"Good. So Fairwyn?" Igor asked.

A chime sounded on Oran's datapad and the Lieutenant's face fell. When the XO showed him the feed from Fairwyn, two soldiers and most of the AA pit where embroiled in a fight.

"Great," Igor pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What should I tell her, sir?"

He thought about it for a moment before responding. "Tell Sargent Fairwyn to pull additional militiamen to resolve the situation as needed and to use the M-Cor penal guide to the letter. Have her send Graff and Korojima to my quarters. Relay to the _Wolcott_ that we're combat ineffective and withdrawing from the exercise. Then have helm bring us to a safe distance outside the training zone. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good, then you have the bridge Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir!" Oran saluted and began carrying out his orders.

Igor returned the salute of the soldier at his hatch and waited as the they opened it. Inside, he pulled up his chair and sat behind his desk. Oran had told him that the officers were upset by having former IMC by their side. Igor was determined to be fair if nothing else.

A knock at his hatch told him that Fairwyn had arrived with Graff and Korojima. At his call, the MARDET Sargent opened the hatch and surprised Igor with how short she was. At five-three with cream colored skin and a face of freckles, the MARDET Sargent's youthful voice belied how ripped she was. Igor noted how her biceps were on display under her pressure suit.

"Sir, I have Warrant officer Korojima and Ensign Graff as requested." Fairwyn reported.

"Thank you, Sargent." Igor said. Fairwyn saluted and left the room.

Graff's body was rigid, poised for what looked like a counterattack at any second. Korojima on the other hand was calm and professional. Igor could tell right away who was the experienced sailor and who was the former pirate. Now, he just had to decide on how to proceed...

"You both know why you're here?" Igor asked, folding his hands together.

"Captain," Graff started hotly, "I protest those boneheads being on this ship. A change in uniform can't change their past. I won't have them inside my gun control room."

Igor looked at Korojima, "You feel the same Warrant officer?"

"Sir, may I speak freely." She asked.

"You may."

"I don't trust them personally but importantly neither does my crew. I had hoped separating them into different pits would help the problem but..."

"Entitled bastards." Graff commented.

"Ensign graff," Igor addressed him sternly, "please hold your outbursts during this disciplinary meeting."

"Disciplinary!?" Graff's face went red, "I'm being disciplined? Captain, you're a veteran. You should know just how ruthless these boneheads can be. They could relay our troop strengths right now!"

"That is quite enough. Because of your actions I had to pull the _Revere_ from the exercise."

Korojima's face turned red with embarrassment but Graff's temper was rising.

"Cap'n, what the fuck were you thinking!?"

"Ensign Graff," Igor's patience gone, "You will address me properly as the senior officer. Is that understood?"

"No, I will not work with the same people that put my friends in caskets!"

"Ensign Graff you are dismissed. Warrent Officer Haley will succeed you." Igor said angrily hopping up from his chair. After, he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Sargent, return Ensign Graff to the brig for transfer."

Fairwyn returned and the Marauder stood behind Graff, "If you'll follow me, sir." She said.

"You're making a big mistake." Graff insinuated but followed Fairwyn out.

Igor sunk back into his chair and blew out a breath, "Please continue Warrant Officer."

"May I still speak freely, sir?" Korojima asked.

"Yes." Igor snapped a little.

"In regards to the fight that broke out. The IMC, the Coalition crew that is, they were good. It was my guys that got out of hand. Some of them are still hurting from Demeter. When the IMC in the pit were scoring more hits than them, it pissed them off, sir." Korojima spoke a little cautiously.

 _Great._ He was going to have to think of some other way to get cooperation going. "Korojima, the amount of ex-IMC in the fleet is only going to increase. In your opinion, what would help ease tensions?"

The Warrant officer looked uncomfortable and shifted her stance. "Honestly, sir. I don't know."

There was a heavy silence in the room and Igor folded his arms. He used the quiet to think of some response, some deep insight he could say to get Korojima on the right track, but his mind drew a blank.

"Will that be all, sir?" She said at last.

"Just one last thing," the idea finally came to him, "your gun crews are to do more labors per day. They can't fight if they're tired. The next exercise is in two weeks. They need to be more willing to work along side new partners and they need to keep their barrels pointed in the right direction."

"I'll do what I can, sir." Korojima saluted.

"See that you do."

Some twenty minutes later and Fairwyn had submitted her report on the fight in the AA pits. Korojima's came a little later as well as an apology for her part in the incident. It would've been too much to expect for Graff to have done the same. His attached report was curt and crude. Igor flopped his tablet onto the desk and resisted running an angry hand through his hair again. It was a new tick he'd developed once taking command. He sighed and tried to calm himself, settling instead on adjusting the brim of his cover.

His current task was to take all three reports and combine them together for his report to Lansford. It was a frustrating and tedious task. Igor wondered how Aubrey enjoyed such tasks as Captain. Perhaps, it was all the time she had spent in university writing all those academic papers or submissions to planets and companies for mining rights. In some ways, Aubrey should've been here. Concord was where she'd found the uranium deposits. _Which version of the star chart was it again? The five-oh-five?_ He thought to himself. The conversation they had in Lansford's cabin now a distant memory.

Now was no time for reminiscing. Igor dragged himself back to Graff's poor report of how the sailors from the Concord Squadron had tried to take over his post. It was more tactful from the argument he made earlier in Igor's cabin. Bullshit was still bullshit and Graff's report stunk.

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain." Jonesy's voice came from his terminal.

"Go ahead," Igor pressed a key to speak back over the channel.

"Priority call from Commodore Lansford, sir. Shall I patch it through?"

 _Hell with the report then._ If Lansford was calling direct, the shit had definitely hit the fan. "Send it, Jonesy."

"Aye, sir. Coming your way now."

The Boatswain's image was replaced with an Militia Navy insignia. Igor cleared his throat and made sure his cover was perfect for the 2nd Fleet commander. A moment later, Lansford appeared, he looked much older now but his face still looked very much like the ideal sea captain's.

"I wish this was under better circumstances Captain," Lansford said as soon as the channel was open. His usual personable demeanor swapped for his stern one, "but the _Revere's_ performance today was less than acceptable."

Igor swallowed and nodded, "Yes, sir. Fights between the groups broke out in our critical areas." He tried to make sound like a statement and not an excuse.

"I don't need to remind you of the critical importance of this joint fleet. By next exercise, I expect the _Revere_ to be at Navy standards, understood?" There was no malice in his flat-toned words, just notes of disappointment.

"Crystal, sir."

"Good. I expect your report to be in my inbox prior to eighteen-hundred hours. Lansford out."

The channel terminated and Igor allowed himself to run a hand through his hair as the other pulled off his cover. He sucked his teeth and he released his breath, Igor had a strong urge to call his husband Peter. Their honey moon had been as short as a Haven shower. The three days of leave he was granted didn't feel adequate enough to fully reconnect with his distant lover. His mind recalling the sight of Peter's back was a wonderful mental distraction and one he couldn't afford to think about right now.

A sip of the bitter coffee was almost strong enough to snap himself back to the report still being compiled on his terminal. Igor checked the time and gritted his teeth when he saw it was 1612 hours. Once he'd sent off this report, Oran and him would have to organize all the officers aboard and see to replacing Graff and how to better work on the tensions of the _Revere's_ crew. Today was already Quite Seriously Fucked.


	10. Chapter 9 - Harper

_Hi All! Quick update, I've tweaked the chapter titles a little bit. During this last month, I realized just how big in scope this story is going to be. SO to make it make easier for everyone, besides the chapter number is the character's name now. That way if anyone forgets what's going on, they can just read the last chapter that character was in to get caught up. Also it lets me see who's your favorite is too! ;)_

 _As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Home Is Where The Jumpkit Is"

Concord System

Haven

2698, November 17th

* * *

Harper's hands and legs were covered in dried mud after a long day of harvesting rice. Since that morning till the noon train, they'd plucked, packed, and stored two fields worth of grain. Standing in the bathroom, Harper ran her hands under the faucet picking the dirt from under her fingernails. No exercise at Severn had ever been that minute and exacting. Her arms ached as well as her back from being hunched over for hours and after that long day, she was looking forward to taking a shower.

The bathroom was tight and cramped but that was standard for a prefab she thought. It was a far cry from the locker rooms of Severn and the _Sentinel_ she was used to. She made sure to lock the door and then double checked that it did lock.

When it all looked locked, Harper finally undressed and folded her clothes neatly onto the counter. She twisted the handle of the shower and let the water run. Holding her hands on the sides of the shower door, Harper tested the water with her foot, when it was warm enough, she tugged off her boy shorts and the high impact sports bra over her head, both of which were neatly placed on the counter over her other clothes. Lastly, she pulled out her hair tie and let her hair fall about her shoulders. It'd been years since her hair had been below the collar of her pressure suit or beyond IMC regulations.

Steam wafted from the shower and Harper took that as indication that the shower was ready. She went through her routine when she heard a man scream. Harper whipped around towards the door, quickly turning off the shower and stepping out. It sounded like it might be Vlocke. She'd didn't even know he was home. Quickly, she grabbed a towel and dried herself off. Tugging up her boy shorts and electing to button up her shirt over trying to pull over the sports bra again.

Slowly opening the door, Harper peeked out from the bathroom. To her right was the kitchen and hall to where the other rooms were, left was towards the living room and her room. Everything looked normal, that is to say messy and unkempt.

Harper elected to go right past the kitchen as it was the part of the prefab she'd explored the least. She moved past the kitchen, her eyes checking the surfaces for possible signs of intrusion. Checking before each step so as to not step on anything. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so far. So she pushed on.

"Tie! I'm sorry!" Vlocke yelled off to the right of the kitchen a few doors away.

Harper paused to listen further. His voice sounded muddled and tired. A small sigh of relief came over her that there wasn't any danger. It was probably a bad dream or something. She turned to leave but at the edge of the kitchen she could just make out a pleading, "I can't find Lucy..."

Lucy? _Was that his daughter?_ Harper renewed curiosity got the better of her and she paused to listen. She held her breath so as no sound might interrupt her hearing. She could hear him toss and turn as he dealt with his nightmare.

"Eve!" _Two daughters?_ Harper bit her lower lip. Was that why Vlocke left the Militia? She wasn't naive enough to not believe that there weren't unexpected casualties in war but that still didn't make her feel comfortable living with it. She folded her arms and tried to push the idea away. _No, the greater good of the Core comes first._ _Just because the Frontier Militia has issue with a planet or two being converted into a full scale mine. That's just how_ _many people need these resources! Besides, how could the Militia be better if they let a whole base be swallowed up by those monsters?_

Harper shook her head indignantly. It wasn't like there wasn't an excess of habitable planets out here or anything but it wasn't right that Vlocke had lost his daughters either. Harper dug her nails into her arms. Hadn't she sacrificed too? She left everyone she knew behind on Earth in Sol. Her dad and her friends who she'd never see again. Now with Demeter destroyed she was stuck here, she'd never see them again. Wasn't that the same? Aren't they technically dead to her now?

Harper tried to remember what he looked like but she couldn't remember. They had chatted as often as they could when she was at basic. Harper could remember his hand holding her's before her augmentation surgery. His hairy knuckles and the two freckles. Mum had died during the Titan Wars and Harper always had trouble remembering her but she'd known her dad for 25 years, how could she forget what he looked like?

"Dad," Harper hugged herself and wiped her eye on her sleeve.

"Zeke!" Vlocke screamed before there was a thud that sounded like he fell to the floor.

Harper crept back to her room after collecting her clothes from the bathroom. As much as she was curious, she didn't really want to see him again. It part guilt for kneeing him in the balls when they first met and part apathy. She'd saved his life once and he'd chosen to squander it on booze. It was harsh, but between the questions she had about her side and the guilt she already felt over Mayumi, there wasn't room for anyone else right now.

Snuggling into her cot, Harper tried to sleep but the thought of her dad still tugged at her. She laid there, hands laced behind her head as she stared at the ceiling tracing the lines between the metal beams. The wrist-comm rested on the make shift nightstand, her only tie now to a past that she no longer could see. There was a profound loneliness to that fact that left her numb. During the whole time on the _Wolcott_ there hadn't been time for reflection but as the months wore on more and more she found herself drawn to these dark thoughts. Had blind patriotism sent her hurtling through space to a war she didn't fully understand? Frustrated, she threw back the covers and got dressed again.

Aimlessly, she wandered around outside in the moonlit night and found herself on one of the crests overlooking the fields. The winter winds tussled her hair and she mechanically fashioned it into a ponytail and scooped her bangs behind her ears. Being a city girl in tourist town for years, being out in the quiet boondocks of the country was... awful. She wanted to be around people and noise again. Across the way, there were still lights on over by the more "tourist-y" side of the hamlet. She decided to give it a try.

Slowly picking her way over, she finally arrived at the source of the lights. What passed for a bar was another prefab building decorated with horns jutting out from one of the porch beams and flowers growing up the side along the stairs. Hay bails sat in front of a patch of plants. People were perched on them, drinking and chatting as puffs of smoke drifted up from their pipes. Some of the people she recognized from today in the fields. There were friendly waves and Harper gave them smiles back.

Making her way up the stairs, she could hear the music playing folksy dance music with synth rhythms. To Harper, it sounded like a dying cat on a chalkboard. Entering through the door, the bar was full of tourist types. She'd seen their type in Brighton often enough to pick them up right away. Not that she'd need to, their clothing was substantially more posh than what they wore here.

As she scanned the room, she saw the bartender barricaded behind the counter sliding drinks out like grenades. Her hair a wavy cloud of jet black with excellent auburn eyebrows that came to a sharp point. Harper watched her shake a tumblr and smoothly pour a drink and effortlessly slide it to a patron. Entertained, Harper made her way over and took a seat near one of the ends. To her surprise, her entrance didn't go unnoticed and the bartender glided over and leaned an elbow against the counter.

"Hey there, bar's kinda busy tonight with the crowd from Haven. Stu's got the regular grog downstairs for folks from the hamlet." She spoke loudly over the din.

Harper didn't understand, "Sorry, what d'ya mean?"

"You want a drink, just go downstairs! Tonight's for investors!" She explained. Suddenly, the bartender's face twisted her lip, "Shit."

Harper turned and saw Vlocke entering from the same entrance she had. Somehow, she was impressed that he'd made it up the stairs at all. Was there where he went for days at a time?

"Oh, is he a regular?" Harper tried to ask casually.

"He's trouble. Tonight of all goddamn nights. I don't mind people working out their issues but we got a high crowd that Barker wants to go smoothly. How do you not know about him?" Harper could see the conflicted look on her face as another investor held out bright red credit bills awaiting his drink.

Harper didn't know how to respond, so she placed a hand on her head and rubbed her temples, "He's my flatmate." She admitted.

"My condolences. So old Turner finally got someone to stay in that house."

"Not like anyone asked me." Harper muttered.

The bartender wiped her hand on her towel and held it out, "I'm Nykky."

She shook Nykky's hand, "Harper."

"Listen," Nykky said over her shoulder already taking the Credits from the investors, "do me a favor. Give him this bottle and tell him to get lost."

Nykky completed a few more orders before she reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. She set it down in front of Harper. Before she could say anything, Nykky had moved on to take more orders. _Well, on the bright side, I could pass it off as a peace offering._

Lingering just a moment to collect herself, she pushed off from the bar, making her way over to Vlocke. As she picked her way through the crowd, she could see him at a booth bothering some of the guests. Vlocke was clearly ticking them off and just begging to be hit. One man was clearly getting very close to doing it himself. Harper tried to pull through but the throng of investors in a collective drunk fervor had taken their partners to dance to some deep bass track. A woman's hip bumped in her, while a man's hand tried to pull her close. Harper got away from all of it and just in the nick of time too.

Once out of the fray, she quickly made her way over to the booth. Harper smiled at the men in the booth.

"Hi, sorry about him!" She said cheerfully before she spoke tersely to Vlocke, "Outside, let's go."

"Ah think Ah'll pass." Vlocke said with a scoff.

"Look truce, alright?" Harper's voice already losing it's patience. "Let's just chat outside."

"Whit Ah want tae talk tae you fer? What? So you can have ahnother go me bawbags, aye? Nae. Deh think jus' cause yer a lassie I won't batter ya diddies."

 _Man, his accent has gotten thick._ Harper chuckled. "My what? Listen mate, let's not get all spun out and chat outside."

"Look, Ah told ya – no!" At that moment, Vlocke swung. It was a wide, clumsy swing from the right. Harper caught it with her right hand around the wrist and twisted his arm around, using her left hand against his back to push him against the wall. She shook her bangs from her face and wrenched up on his arm.

"Chat now?" She asked him. He was nothing compared to that Pilot on Outpost 207.

"Awrite – Jus leave me face alone, ya rocket!"

"Cheers," Harper grinned and shot a look back to the bar. Nykky was chatting with a patron but there was relief on her face. "Come on let's go. I'll be back for that!"

Harper shot a look over her shoulder towards the booth as she thrusted Vlocke back out the entrance. She made sure he was hobbling down the stairs before snagging the bottle by the neck and walked out after him. He'd already made it down the stairs and she quickly jogged down to meet him.

"Hey," She called as she caught up to him.

"Aw come on, just let me alone awrite?"

"Look, I'm sorry but the bartender didn't want you in there and you were picking a fight with those booth guys. I did you a favor."

"A favor? Nah, you should've just left me on that planet."

Harper recoiled. Vlocke and her had helped each other get off of Persephone as the monsters raged over the base after the three repulser towers fell. She had, in actuality, badgered him to take her to safety since he was despondent. She had thought it was just nerves but now...

Harper sighed, "Then I wouldn't have been able to get off the planet, would I? I made a promise."

Vlocke looked away from her face and scoffed.

"What? Is that funny to you?" When he said nothing she asked him a different question. "So what happened to you after they handcuffed me and pulled me away?"

He winced but something in his expression changed, "I... I went to the bar."

She was incredulous, "Wot! The bar!?"

"Yeah," he admitted, "I went to the bar and got a drink."

Harper was fuming. "The bar!?"

"Yeah, so what?"

She shoved his shoulder with her free hand, "So wot!? I tell you wot, arsehole! Is that anyway to repay someone?"

When they were rescued, she was quickly taken to be interrogated. During her time with Captain June, she'd had hoped in the back of her mind that he might've put in a good word for her or spoken for releasing her. Now, she was hearing that instead he just went back to drinking. The same thing he'd been doing here for months! It was unbelievable.

Vlocke slapped her next shove away, "Noo listen! I deh owe ya shite! Youse was jus' some bonehead who pulled me oot to save her skin is all. Like Ah'm gonna care aboot that? We wiz still enemies eejit! So youse got to save ya skin, what maer didja want?"

His words hurt her. They shouldn't have hurt so much but they had. She realized that he was right, he hadn't owed her anything. It was stupid to think otherwise, wasn't it? Surprisingly though, she actually felt differently about that. _He doesn't owe me but..._

"Maybe not me then but what about your team? Don't you owe them? Did you leave them too?"

"They left me." He mumbled. His face still wouldn't meet her's.

"Ahh." Harper said wincing and took a sip.

He growled, "what do you care?"

"I haven't met ex-Militia here yet, now have I? It's all from my side. It's interesting."

Vlocke finally seemed to recognize the bottle in her hand, "Is that?"

She regarded the bottle casually, "Bourbon?"

His face seem to brighten, "That yours?"

"Yeah," Maybe she could get somewhere with him on this? "why? Didja want some?"

He grinned greedily, "Aye."

"Hmm. How about this?" She curled a bang behind her ear. "You my answer my questions and you get a drink? Fair?"

Vlocke seemed dissuaded by this, "What?"

"It's simple. An answer for a drink."

He sighed, "Depends on the question – sure."

"Good. Come on then!"

The two of them found a couple of free bales of hay and sat across each other. Vlocke's eyes occasionally flicked between her and the bottle.

"Alright, let's see... why'd you leave?" She asked and took a quick sip.

Vlocke twisted his lip and grumbled, finally he answered, "I... was tired. Nothing changed."

"You attacked the Artemis Shipyard."

"Doesn't mattah."

"You took out Airbase Sierra." Her tone rising with each answer.

"So what?"

"Demeter!?"

"Who fucking cares!?" He snapped. "My mates died fer a cause, I didnae believe in! Awrite? Happy noo? Gies us that bottle."

Harper let him snatch it from her hand as he took a long pull. She watched him tip the bottle up as the excess trickled into his beard. For a moment there, it looked like he wasn't going to get the bottle back but he did with a satisfied sighed. Harper rubbed the lip off and took a sip herself.

"I'm sorry," She finally managed and held the bottle back out to him.

He huffed and shook his head but accepted the bottle and took a quick pull. "Look can we not talk about that?"

"Sure. But um, can I ask why you joined?"

Vlocke chuckled. It was weird, in that moment he seemed like a completely different person. Like a happy person. "Ohh that was uh, an interesting day. I almost blew up me uncle."

She was shocked, "What!?"

He waved his hands quickly, laughing. "No no, it wasnae on purpose, promise. I-I come from a backwater town likes this one, ya no? An' uh, well it gets borin' sometimes. So one day, me mates and I, ya no, gets together like and uh... make bombs. It wae stupid, no doubt. He wasnae even supposed to be there, ya no? Supposed to be on his honeymoon he was. So this one bomb we tossed as a joke in front of this car... the fuse was too long and it went off in front of it."

Vlocke paused and licked his lips before continuing, "So it goes off, aye? And he just runs from the car, just screamin' bloody murder. Thinks it's the Militia after him an all. Pure laugh riot. Except fer the part when he called the Marines in. He wae the local guv'ner after all. They didnae think it was funny either. Beat the living shite out of us. After that, enough wae enough, I hopped on a freighter an joined the Militia after that. Been blowin' up shite ever since."

Harper found herself absently nodding, "Huh..."

"Yeah, that's me."

"That really wasn't what I was expecting."

"Oh?" Vlocke seemed surprised by that. "What did ya expect then? Some big tragic backstory, aye?"

Harper reflected. She had actually. If the Militia had Pilots like Vlocke, who joined just because, how did they lose Demeter? Charlie and Sophia had long explanations for their defection. Vlocke was just fucking around one day and made a mistake of pissing off the IMC. These weren't the horror stories she was told. No one here so far had told her they wanted the Earth to die or that the Frontier wanted the Earth and Tau F to die in some Anti-core plot. Just regular people living in the midst of an interstellar war.

"I... I had kind of hoped so." Harper said and took a sip. Vlocke looked at the bottle waiting. "We trained every day for combat against the Militia and now I found myself at a compound of mostly ex-IMC. I still want to get these resources to the Core. Is that crazy?"

"Yes," Vlocke said quickly reaching for the bottle and took a long gulp. Harper frowned. "It is crazy. They're light years away. Whatsit mattah anymore?"

"What about Lucy and Eve?" Harper asked trying to get back at him. Earth did matter. Her dad was there. "What did they think?"

Vlocke's face twisted with confusion and then he laughed loudly and held his gut. His laugh carried on for so long that Harper was getting equal parts annoyed and embarrassed.

"What's so funny?" She snapped.

The laughter continued until she could smell the alcohol on his breath from here. She didn't understand it. Weren't those the names of his daughters? Had she been wrong?

"Wot the hell is so funny?" She nearly shouted.

Finally, he calmed himself and between fits answered, "Nuffin', they were just... really good guns."

 _Guns._ That settled it. The Frontier was full of crazy people. She pulled the bottle from Vlocke and left. Tie was probably some guy at the armory who handed out the guns. What a idiot she'd been thinking that Vlocke must've been in real pain. The only pain he felt was from not blowing things anymore.

The next day as she left to go back to another day of rice picking when Charlie intercepted her. "Hey Harper!"

"Hey Charlie, what's the matter?"

Charlie looked worried. "It's Logan, he took a spill."

"A spill? What do you mean?"

Charlie explained that Logan was one of the few Pilots who helped maintain the bridge. "It's either you or Vlocke and... you know."

It wasn't a question, "Of course I'll do it! You kidding?"

The Kodex construction suit was a neutral blue pressure suit with extra pads on the legs and chest. Charlie was giving her the basic run down. "Now, here's the best bit, the grapple. If you need to leg it off the bridge as the train's coming jus' catch it on a heavy surface."

Harper was so giddy. After months of being without a Pilot suit, here she was again zipping into one. The fit wasn't exactly like a glove but it was comfy. She admired the suit happily.

"Got it."

"Okay. Now here's the jumpkit." Charlie pulled it out. "Now, let me know if you need help with putting it on."

"No bother." Harper said and quickly fastened it around her hips and the other straps around her crotch and thighs to disperse the weight. She was a little back heavy now but she could accommodate for that with a little practice. Besides it felt great knowing it was there.

Harper hopped and burst the jump kit to get a feel for the bump again. She launched herself an extra metre in the air and hit the ground. That felt good. Charlie just watched her and so she ran over to the pylon by the garage and jumped towards it. The jump kit reacted and propelled her forward. She caught the pylon and then leapt across towards the other one. Harper fell in an arc before she bursted again catching the pylon. _Well, let's give the grapple a try._ She fired it towards the bridge. The hook clamped onto the metal struts and pulled her upwards. It was exhilarating, she was going faster than ever had before with a kit. She boosted backwards against the pull and eased herself towards the top of the bridge.

Harper pulled herself up on top of the bridge and took in a deep satisfied breath. The hamlet was very different from up here. She enjoyed the perspective. It had been so long since she'd enjoyed herself that she wanted this moment to never go away. Harper loosened the grapple and then took a leap towards the center. She screamed with joy as she soared down. Boosting back, she halted the grapple about two metres from the ground. Her body swung back and forth and Harper's cheeks hurt from giggling and smiling.

"That was awesome!" She squealed.

"That," Charlie said tersely, "scared me to death, Harper."

"Aw, come on. It was fine."

"One spill a day is enough for me, thanks."

"Alright," Harper replied, "So, um how do I detach the grapple?"

Charlie sighed.

The next few hours flew by as Harper grappled and jumped between pylons checking for damage. It was great fun and she had a blast. Charlie had given her these wide goggles to keep hair and dirt from getting into her eyes. It wasn't the same without the helmet but she was happy none the less. As she sat on one of the walk ways, her arms over the bars of the catwalk, Harper watched the people of the hamlet finish picking rice for the day.

"Miss Harper!" A boy called.

Harper pulled an arm out from the catwalk and leaned back on the walk way. Russell was there holding a container in his hand with the other cupped around his mouth.

"Yeah?" She shouted back.

"Mum made you..." but she couldn't hear the rest.

"Hold on, I'll come down!"

She latched onto the bridge again and rappelled down. "So what's this about your mum?"

"My mum made you a lunch but who cares about that! Whatcha doin' wit that grapple?"

Harper giggled. "You like it?"

"Yes!"

Harper couldn't help herself. She knew Russ liked the lock-lift on Concord, maybe he liked bridges too? "You wanna see the top of the bridge?"

"Can I?"

"Sure, come on! Hold on tight." She pulled an arm around Russ holding him tight against her. He hugged her close resting his head against her arm. "Ready? Okay, here we go!"

Harper boosted up and let the grapple reel them in. The extra change in weight didn't seem to affect it much. It was probably rated for a Pilot with loads of gear on so it probably be fine with a twelve year old attached. With unintended finesse, the two landed nearly perfectly on the walk way. Russ quickly grabbed onto the rails and smiled.

"Wow!" He scanned the field below.

"Yeah, it's cool right?" She said as she gripped the rails too.

"This is amazing! Oh yeah, here's your lunch." Russ handed over the container to her.

"Oh gee, thanks." Harper sat down with her legs over the side of the track.

"You're the coolest Pilot I've met." He said as she opened the tin to find her lunch.

She chuckled, "Yeah? You meet a lot Pilots then?"

Russ blushed, "Yeah, I mean, a few."

"I'm sure." _I hope he doesn't mean Vlocke_. She thought as she bit into a biscuit. "How're Militia Pilots?"

"I don't know," Russ said sitting down next to her but keeping his back against the railing, "I've only talked to a few IMC Pilots."

That piqued her interest, "Is that right?"

"Well, it was just after the colony attack."

 _No. No not that colony._ Harper pleaded to herself.

"It was just after the IMC attacked and this Pilot found me in my uncle Al's cabin outside the village. He was really mean but this other Pilot she was really nice."

"Yeah?" Harper said listening as she ate a bikkie, as Sophia called them.

"Mhm," Russ nodded, "we sat and talked about how the colony was built."

"Oh that's nice," Harper tried to sound chipper but the knot in her stomach was growing. This kid was from the colony she'd been ordered to bomb.

"I'll never forget it. The way she said her name," Russ grinned, "Pilot First Class, Mayumi Sato!" He imitated how Mayumi sounded off.

Harper's breath caught in her throat. She stopped eating and found it difficult to swallow the rest of the biscuit. The night before she was transferred out of Winters' unit flashed in her mind. Mayumi, standing in her quarters, conflicted and alone. Mayumi had talked to this boy before she had met her? Perhaps just before even.

"I..." Harper wasn't sure how to respond to such an incredible stroke of luck. "She was my friend."

The words came out with a croak. Harper set the tin down next to her and folded her hands in her lap. _Mayumi. There's someone else who remembers you._ Russ shuffled next to her and put an arm on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Is she dead?" This twelve year old boy was consoling her as if Mayumi was really dead.

Harper put her arm under his and pulled him in close, "I don't think she's dead but the person who she was. The person you met, the one who was my friend, she's gone, and I really miss her."

"I'm sorry, Miss Harper." He finally said after a moment.

"Thanks but just call me Olivia."

"Miss, um, Olivia, what was she like? If you don't mind me asking but she seemed really sad."

"She was," Harper answered, "something happened to her and she never was able to get past it."

"Graves was like that too."

"Graves?" Harper looked down at him. "As in Vice-admiral Graves? Hero of the Jupiter Gate Graves?"

"Y-yeah..." Russ replied startled.

"You met Graves?"

"Yes, I did! He helped me off the _Colossus_ too!"

"The Colos- noo! You're havin' a laugh at me, aren't you?" All sad feelings temporarily forgotten.

"It's true! There's a recording of me out there that the Militia got."

"Uh-huh, sure." Harper grinned and pulled Russ close as she ruffled his hair.

"Stop! Stop! I might fall." He pulled away and straightened out his hair. "My parents do that all the time, since I've come back. I hate it."

"They missed you is all." She grinned. "Would you want a salute instead hero?"

"I'm not a hero," he pouted, "Al was a hero."

"Who's... Al?" Harper asked gently.

"He was my uncle. Well, sort of. We would go gathering together sometimes for Flyer eggs. When the IMC attacked us, he... he told me to run and not look back. It's not like Mayumi though, I know Al's dead."

"Hey," she reached over and pulled him back into a hug, "I'm sure he'd be proud of you. Look at what you've done."

"I know, I know. I try not to think about it but I miss him and it's my fault!" Russ finally broke and began to cry.

Harper's eyes bursted with tears. She held the boy close as he shuddered and cried on her shoulder. "I'ts not your fault..."

"Da says that too but it was. I called out for the IMC and then they shot at each other!"

 _No. That can't be right._ _They wouldn't shoot civilians._ Sure Winters would but Mayumi wouldn't, Barrett wouldn't, and she herself couldn't. Yet, here was this boy crying on her shoulder telling her otherwise. That the IMC had shot his uncle. What was she going to tell him, that his uncle was an anti-Core terrorist? That Ceti and Sol settled their differences to rebuild their worlds at the expense of the Frontier? That one day the IMC might hang her too?

Harper rested her head on Russ'. There wasn't anything good to say, so she just let him cry it out. Listening to him, she could understand the hamlet a little better. Why everyone chatted about the day and not about the past. Why Vlocke chose to drink away his nightmares. Why someone as notable as Barker might make a brewery out in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't her home but it was starting to feel like it could be. After months of feeling adrift, she was finally finding a place where she could relate to someone. Home would always be Brighton on Earth but Barker's Brewing Company on Haven was becoming a close second. Here, the dispossessed could call it home.


	11. Chapter 10 - Bish

_Hi all! A little something different this month with a chapter and an interlude. I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

"The Opening Move"

Marshall System

MCS Annapolis

2698, November 21st

* * *

Bish arrived at the bridge just as they finished their jump into the Marshall System. A system according to Graves would be free of IMC influence. Yet on the holo-board were three IMC transport vessels. Their transponder signals registered them as the _Gravia_ , _Dunera_ , and the _Whitley_. More interestingly, Bish saw they weren't guarded.

"I want the fighter screen to pull along side at a hundred klicks and target their rear thrusters." Graves ordered.

Bish came up to the board and touched the _Gravia_ and expanded his hand out. Sonar and Lidar pulses pinging back a heavy ship with lots of crates inside. At this range, it was impossible to tell what was inside the ships but it's weight rating knew it was full. Easy pickings for them.

"So what are three fully loaded transports doing out here?" Bish asked Graves.

Graves' face was still taunt as he studied the board for a few more seconds before answering. "I don't know but that's what I want to find out."

"So why do you look disappointed?"

"Because those are fully loaded transports with no escorts." Graves rubbed his chin. "It's not how the Navy used to be."

Bish could hear the pangs of wounded pride in his voice. He had been heading the Militia for almost eight month now and still the Field Commander would get sentimental.

"The Colonial Navy is stretched thin these days." Bish tried to explain.

"Not that thin, Commander. See this part here?" Graves touched the Whitley.

The _Whitley_ expanded and slowly enlarged on the board. Bish saw what looked like an extended promenade deck jutting out just below the main deck cargo bays. The paint was newer, then the rest of the ship. So it followed that it was a recent expansion. What Bish didn't understand, was what it was for.

"So I guess it's not extra walking space."

"No, I think Commander Lorck, the IMC are arming their merchant ships, but the space is too small for Heavy Turrets and their spider mounts."

"Maybe Em-Tees like what we're experimenting with on the Barges?"

"The expansions don't have any discernible openings. That's why I ordered a squadron to investigate."

"Ah, so you want me to jam their distress calls." Bish grinned.

"If you'd be so kind, Commander." Graves motioned to Bish's laptop resting on the holo-board.

"I'll do better than that. How about their manifests and diagnostics?"

Bish hijacked onto the sensor towers and began broadcasting his signal towards the _Whitley_. Using his personal auth code of "BISH-FU," he worked his way into the Whitley's system and began running his electronic warfare programs. Cracking into the ship's database he was able to start pulling up the information he needed. The _Whitley_ was part of a convoy from Victor with fuel and resources for an nav-point some 5 AU from their current position. Bish didn't see that very often anymore but more interesting was that the IMC still trying to use Victor for jump fuel.

Digging further, Bish found that the transports were armed with a new medium turret. Graves was right, they were armed. Bish observed it's smaller design would most likely fit within the new expanded area on the _Whitley_. There were quite a few around the whole ship.

"You were right," Bish looked up from his laptop, "they're armed with a new set of turrets."

"Let me see... A new turret design, very clever Spyglass. Advise our fighters on the gun emplacements and make sure we stay out of range until we can – damnit!"

Bish turned to the holo-board as the _Gravia_ and _Dunera_ fired up their jump thrusters. He immediately got to work on infiltrating their networks and disabling their engines. By the time he had finished, the _Gravia_ was seconds away from jumping. The sudden change in the _Gravia's_ speed started a fire in it's engines. Dunera's crew had caught on and quickly shut down it's engines in an attempt to avoid the same fate.

Caught, the two undamaged merchant crusiers used impulse to maneuver themselves into a wedge around the Gravia. Abandoning their guise as defenseless, the additions blew downwards against the hull, revealing several medium AA turrets. Bish tried to hack into them as well but was halted by his discovery that the turrets were on an isolated network.

"Huh, they're so new, they're not even on the main part of the ship." Bish said puzzled.

"Then we'll do this the old fashioned way. Order all fighters to disable those turrets and ship engines. Have Sarah get her SRS ready for a boarding action."

"Aye aye, sir." The Comms officers acknowledged.

"Commander Lorck, log this position. After this raid we're jumping to Harmony."

Bish put his laptop on the edge of the holo-board and brought up the whole map of the Frontier. He found their coordinates and placed a marker on the convoy's position. On a whole, the 1st Fleet's attacks should look like a well coordinated expansion on their raiding patterns. It was loose but it was the best way to disguise an entire fleet's movements towards their real objective: Harmony.

"I just hope the IMC don't figure it out before we get there."

Graves just frowned and kept his focus on the holo-board as two Hornet squadrons with some Crows as torpedo bombers made their attack run. Bish busied himself on finding where the transports were headed. Operating by nav-points was not standard procedure for most ships, who knew the location of where they were going ahead of time, preferring to stick to well guarded trade lanes.

"So where are you going?" Bish mumbled to himself.

His search started with nearby IMC outposts. Nothing turned up. Next, he expanded out nearby IMC held planets but that didn't tread either. Bish was getting frustrated and pulled deep on his knowledge of smugglers who would plot their own private "lanes" by setting up a series of nav points that were clear of planetary trajectories. Even Bish thought that was a long shot, no one had done that in fifty years ago. That was back when exploration was still being done with projections and AI assist. So that left just one theory that would fit. The transports were deliberately not getting the location because it was an IMC black site. High risk shipments like these would have highly paid crews who knew the risk.

Bish quickly glanced up at the board to see how the fight was going. The Hornets were dancing around the three ships. Back to his screen, he dove back into the Whitely's system and pulled up it's schematics looking at the maintenance logs. He scrolled through mostly mundane fixes until Bish came across something strange. Two months ago the _Whitley_ had a data slot fail safe installed. Bish opened up his index in another window and searched for data slot fail safes. Back inside the Whitley's system, he began trying to find what the data slot could connect to...

"Gravia's been disabled." A Liaison reported.

On the holo-board, Bish saw the burst from the _Gravia's_ thrusters finally explode. The smoke expanded outwards in a spherical shape as the heat from the engines pushed the smoke outwards. After a moment or two, when the engines' fuel was cut the smoke just hung there around back of the ship with no where to go. To Bish, it looked like a thick black nebula had just grown out of the back of the _Gravia_.

Bish went back to the Whitley's system a second later, it cut. "Shit, I'm being jammed. Can someone put a rocket into one of their communication dishes?"

He said it to no one in particular but was surprised when Graves relayed the order, "You heard Commander Lorck, target their conning tower." Then Graves turned to Bish, "What do you got, Commander?"

"I was messing around inside the Whitley's system and found they've rigged up a fail safe device."

"A fail safe for what?" Graves asked.

"That's what I couldn't find out."

"What about where it was going?" He pressed.

"We got the jump on them before their next nav-point."

"Are you still inside the Gravia and Dunera's systems?"

"Sure am." Bish grinned.

"See if they have it too."

"On it, boss."

He dove into the _Gravia's_ system and identified the same fail safe. Following the same maintenance path, he discovered that the fail safe had been rigged to the engines. The log didn't state what for. Usually, IMC logs were small encyclopedias on what they were for, the lack of longevity struck him as strange. A dead end.

Bish began pulling into the _Dunera's_ system but was cut out of it almost instantly. He tried the Whitley again but they were still countering him. Well once Sarah's team got aboard with their data-knifes would allow him in or with their interceptor chips too. Bish folded his hands behind his head and watched the space battle on the holo-board.

"This is Raider, ready and waiting, Bish." The boarding team relayed.

"Understood, Raider. Standby, the Hornets are still clearing the corridor."

"Roger that."

As Bish watched the fighters on the board duke it out with the AA guns of the merchant convoy, a chime trilled on his laptop. Changing his focus to his laptop, he saw that the _Gavia_ was ramping their damaged engines. That wasn't a good sign, stressing the engines after they'd been damaged meant they were probably trying to scuttle the ship.

Graves saw it too, "Commander Lorck, can't you override?"

Bish didn't have time to answer and dove straight away to avert disaster. The _Gravia's_ crew was smart and had done it all manually. If he had to guess, it was from inside the engine room too to cut him out. Bish shut his laptop and shook his head.

"Withdraw our fighters to minimum safe distance. Seal all shutters. Get damage control crews to the ready."

"FC, _Dunera_ and _Whitley_ are trying to jump." A Liaison reported.

Graves sighed, "Can't be helped."

"Dentonation in six, five, four, three..."

Bish watched the holo-board as the _Gravia_ flickered away. Scuttling a ship was like detonating a grenade in the middle of an empty room, all you could do was stand still and hope the fragments missed you.

"Debris incoming."

"How large?" Graves asked.

"Point-two up to eight meters!" One Liaison reported.

"All hands brace for impact!" Graves announced over the comms.

" _Dunera's_ jumped successful! _Whitley's_ damaged, possible rupture!" Another called out.

"Status on the fighters?" The Field Commander continued to ask for reports.

"Light damage, they were able to dodge most of the debris."

Graves nodded, "Tell them to boost and light their beacons. We'll collect them once the debris passes."

"Aye, sir."

"Debris passing in five, four, three, two..."

Bish listened to the sound of several pieces of metal knocking on the hull. Everyone held their breath and waited. A loud thud came from the bridge shutters and made it's way up the side of the bridge.

"Recall the boarding teams from their standby and get the salvage and rescue teams ready! Maintenance crews on the hull as soon as the debris passes." Graves issued new orders.

"Copy that," Bish acknowledged and got to work, "Raider, stand down. No convoy today."

"Sonova... Okay, rog' Bish. Raider disembarking."

"FC! Whitley's decompressing! Another smaller cluster of point two to three meters!" A Liaison broke in.

"Crew maintain stations, second debris wave incoming!" Graves made the second announcement.

"Second debris wave in twelve, eleven, ten, nine..."

"What did they load into this starships anyways?" Bish asked rhetorically.

No one answered but a little later, more debris knocked against the hull. This time lighter and faster, like the sound of ball bearings on a sheet roof. The whole field was past them in over a second. Bish was just happy it was over.

"Damage report!" Graves called out.

"Superficial to minor damage to all ships. Six plus two fighters were knocked out."

 _Six from the raid, two from the debris clusters._ Bish automatically processed in his head. _Eight fighters isn't a bad trade for two freighters._

"Good, I want salvage teams out processing the Whitely. Rescue teams pull aboard anyone they can find. We'll stay in the zone until they're finished and then make our final jump. I want all reports forwarded directly to the CIC. Commander, follow me."

"Right behind ya, boss." Bish jumped out of his seat, laptop in hand.

The pair walked down the corridor to the bridge elevator without a word. Bish was used to this. Graves often processed an action after the fact. Himself, he was more of a "fire and forget" type. A behavior he picked up during Anderson's command when they went from one loss to another. Mac had changed that. In the time it took to destroy Demeter, the Militia had gone from a small Frontier revolution into a full scale war. The Coalition would be the new direction of their evolution.

"I don't like it," Graves finally spoke as the elevator descended.

"Four to one is a great ratio. What's not to like?"

"Merchant cruisers, way points instead of planned routes, scuttled rather than surrender. It reeks of a blacksite transport."

"That was my thought too but that's even better right?" Bish grinned.

Graves sighed, "Maybe. I used to know all the routes and black projects. The Marshall System wasn't supposed to have one."

"So we got lucky and ambushed a convoy they didn't expect you to find."

"I wish I could share in your optimism Commander. I fear the quick victories are almost over."

Bish shrugged as the elevator door opened and Sarah greeted them at the CIC, "Direct Line from Gridiron. Lurps report that the training base at White Head is still taking in new recruits. I'd like to get SRS on the ground to run close recon."

"For what reason, Commander Briggs?" Graves said, not missing a beat out of the elevator.

"We think they're training Grunts from scratch and not bringing in academy experienced Pilots."

"That follows. However, the Rise outpost is of more strategic value to us as long as the IMC don't know it's there. I can't authorized anything that could jeopardize the outpost."

"Okay," Sarah said as she followed Graves and Bish to the holo-board of the CIC, "the Artemisium shipyard is close to Harmony and Quay. We could take some of them and do localized raids for ships."

"Quay? Wasn't it Tortuga just last month?" Graves raised an eyebrow.

"New pirate faction took over. Coalition leaning." She shrugged.

"Well," Graves reached the board, "if a target of opportunity presents itself, I think we could do that. Provided Bish is up for the challenge and we can spare our only diplomat."

"Funny." Bish said but Sarah snickered at the jab.

"Commander Briggs, get me an operational plan by the end of the day. Alright people, we got a job to do. Let's do it by the numbers." Graves said to the CIC.

It was an exhausting two hours. Rescue teams were able to recover the two pilots caught in the debris wave but the six in the raid were lost and their Hornets were unrecoverable. The _Gravia's_ detonation had crumpled the Whitely beyond recovery of the ship and it supplies. As best the salvage teams could tell, the _Gravia_ was carrying arms and the _Whitely_ equipment. Pockets of smoke hung around the wrecks making them to dangerous to approach with anything short of individuals jetting in on cables. There wasn't time to do something that slow and so the crumpled _Whitely_ lay dormant in the center of an expanding debris field for an IMC recovery crew to pick apart.

The _Annapolis_ would ready a new wave of fighters to deploy as soon as they finished their jump, ready to spring on any awaiting surprises that would meet them. Below deck the fighter squadron from the convoy raid was below deck for repairs and rearmament. Once everything was secured, the First Fleet would jump in a staggered echelon, allowing each ship to have a clear lane to move when they arrived. They weren't expecting trouble but just under 30 days since they were "invited" to Harmony, anything could've chnaged.

"All hands – Standby for jump in three, two, one." A Liaison over the PA announced.

Bish blinked and the map in the CIC had changed to the Freeport System. Planets appeared in translucent blue balls sailing around the holo-board and at the fringes of the system was the Artemis Shipyard. It's long mass broken up by large rings as it slowly generated it's artificial gravity. The memory of the Artemis Raid came back to him and Bish wondered what had happened to the crew of the _Montana._

Graves ordered the fighters to be released again and to start their screening for the fleet. Bish reopened his laptop and began bringing up the data cache from the Artemisium Shipyard raid. He wanted to be prepared in case Sarah got the go ahead for the raid. The cache hadn't been updated in a while and Bish was eager to try and hack through the OSET security system again.

"I want a ping of the planet ASAP and identify any planet defenses or installations. Commanders, let's go." Graves left the CIC, followed by Sarah and Bish. When the three of them were inside the elevator, Graves turned to Sarah, "What's your assessment on Harmony, Commander Briggs?"

She twisted her face, "We haven't been there since Anderson's day. Beautiful country, good place to call home. Proud folks, work hard. It rated low on the threat scale back then so we stashed some weapons there in case we came back this way. It looks like the IMC found out about it."

"Commander Lorck, you're our diplomat. Recommendations?"

Bish cleared his throat, "Uh, I think we should send Marsh, our Coalition representative, and Sarah."

Sarah glared at him like he was a traitor. Graves nodded thoughtfully. "I agree, out of the three of us, Briggs is pure Frontier and a hero amongst the Militia."

"Plus her bounty's higher than mine." Bish added wryly.

Sarah rolled her eyes, "I'm no diplomat, Graves. I wouldn't know where to start on trying to get them to join the Coalition. Besides," She added, "you want that operational plan now or later?"

"The operational plan can wait. We need those Titan prototypes and with Harmony as a springboard, we could capture Artemisium later. Think of it as putting our best foot forward for now."

Sarah swallowed her opinion and nodded, "Sure, understood."

As graves left the elevator, Sarah grabbed him by the arm and glared at him, "Thanks Cheng."

Bish chuckled nervously. It made sense for her to go, Sarah had lost more than most and Bish was willing to bet so had the people of Harmony. Someone like her, rough and stubborn would mesh well with the farmers and traders that had wrested control from the IMC with the same tenacity.

"Low traffic FC, some smugglers out of Quay. On the peripheral, we have a couple of sorties and frigates around Artemis. Looks like someone took notice."

"Good work," Graves patted the sensor operator on the back, "Comm-O."

"Aye, sir!" The Comms Operator sounded off.

"Patch me into all squadron leaders."

"Aye, aye!"

Bish retook his spot by the holo-board, while Sarah took a spot closer to the shutters. As the combat shutters dropped, Bish saw the planet of harmony beyond and was impressed by the blue and green ball with smatterings of white across the whole of it. Yet as more of the planet was revealed, there were crisp orange lines that sliced all along the axises of the planet. Even Graves was struck by the damage on the planet as Bish heard him curse the IMC under his breath.

"All squadron leaders, this is Field Commander Marcus Graves. I want a defensive perimeter around Harmony with fighter cover rotations every three hours. First and Fourth squadrons clear the orbital corridor with Second and Third forming the outer section. Under no circumstances are we to break atmo of Harmony until contact. I repeat, no ship is enter Harmony air space until after contact. Are we clear?"

The squadron leaders confirmed his orders were understood.

"Very good. In the interim, I need fire damage consultants and medical volunteers to assist with the damage on the ground and ready to go as soon as the fleet is allowed to put ships on the deck. Dismissed."

"Link terminated, FC." The Comms Operator informed Graves.

"Have we identified the installations on the ground?"

"Yes, sir. There's one operating communication beacon near a mountain range thirty klicks from Nexus and three working AOD guns with another badly damaged." A sensor operator said.

"Patch into that beacon, let them know we're here."

"Aye, sir."

"Lorck, can you infiltrate their network? See what information you can gleam."

"Sure, I'm on it boss." Bish said opening his laptop and getting to work. A few keystrokes later and he was inside a few networks. A supply storage facility, a Tiffany's coffee, and forward op outside of Nexus. He also spliced into the main feed of the _Annapolis_ and looked to see if the cache was still around or what was left of it. Bish could remember roughly where it had been.

"Sarah, you remember where the cache was left?" He asked her from across the bridge.

Sarah's arms were folded as she turned her head to Bish, "I was just looking for it too. I remember what it looked like from orbit but with all this smoke..."

"Yeah, same here. Oh wait..." Bish blew a deep breath.

"What is it Commander?" Graves had a quizzical look on his face.

"I was able to patch in to the Tiffany's Coffee network and it's got both private and military information on it from both sides."

"Such as?"

"Defensive orders from the IMC after the beacon was lost but also 'Dear Mom' letters."

"Copy it. Copy it all." Graves said somberly. "If we can, I'd like to give those people some peace someday."

"That's a nice thought," Bish said.

Graves didn't respond. He was awaiting the Comm-O to give him the go ahead to communicate with Harmony. The air suddenly was filled with a weight of tension. Bish went back to his laptop and tried to not read the "Dear Mom" letters. It'd been years but Bish tried to forget he'd come from the Core worlds at one point. Seeing letters from soldiers who'd never be able to go back wasn't something he was keen on reading. The letters stopped and then a sadder story began to develop. An IMC General, Auchenburg, had continuously pleaded for reinforcements from Vice-Admiral Spyglass believing he would never abandon a staunch IMC loyalist. Auchenburg's pleas were never answered and he constantly blamed the decline in Spectres for his failure to bring the people of Harmony to kneel. Bish felt no pity for Auchenburg but to keep pleading even when you never received a reply, seemed... insane.

"Hey boss," Bish said to Graves turning around his laptop, "you might want to see this."

Graves leaned in and read Auchenburg's pleas, when he finished Graves shook his head. "Auchenburg never did have any imagination. I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did. How did they go from this to arming merchant ships?"

"What do you mean?" Sarah said coming back from the shutters to meet them around the holo-board.

"That raid we did before the jump, I thought it must be a blacksite run as it had no route only updated way points to keep the destination a secret. That's why it had the turrets but what if it wasn't? It's possible that Spyglass may not be as in charge as we thought he was."

Sarah understood, "You mean because the arming of merchant ships wasn't a directive we intercepted?"

"Precisely," Graves rubbed his chin again, "someone else might be ordering merchant ships to be armed."

"That could be anybody in High Command." Bish frowned.

"True but it's possible the IMC may be more fragmented now than I thought."

"More fragmented? I didn't think they had any sides to begin with." Sarah made a scoff.

"Yeah, anyone who possibly cared about the Core defected when you did." Bish added.

"So, with out one side, they lean towards the other?" Graves said unconvinced.

"You saw the messages," Bish pointed to his laptop, "they're all loyalists now."

"To who? Hammond?" Graves snorted.

"Aren't they?" Sarah asked puzzled.

Graves scoffed lightly and folded his hands together in thought. Bish had never seen a man more troubled by success. Maybe he should talk to O'Connell about getting better food for the Field Commander. It might help lighten his mood.

Bish pushed away from the board and continued, "Listen we can speculate all we want on the IMC but right now – that planet has to be our main focus."

"Well put Commander," Graves said coming out of his thoughts, "Comm-O?" The operator shook his head and kept trying the beacon.

"Maybe they thought we weren't coming after all?" Sarah suggested.

"Are those AOD guns active?" Graves asked.

"No, FC, IR scans detect no heat signatures from the cannons. There are multiple heat signatures from the large base to the west. Magnifying now." The Liaison enhanced his instruments.

Bish got up from his seat and went over to the sensor operator and looked at the bright white spots amongst the grays and blacks of the IR filter. Sure enough, lots of hot spots inside the compound.

"Looks like a whole town meeting." He commented.

"Bish, you might be right." Sarah said and uploaded her feed to the holo-board. Something in Sarah's tone made him think she'd found something serious. "They might be deciding what to do with us."

"Remember they invited us here. Keep us out of range of those cannons and keep trying the beacon. Someone has to answer our call eventually." Graves said.

"Sir, with your permission, I'll be down in the CIC working up the Artemisium plan until I'm needed then." Sarah said saluting Graves.

"Carry on, Commander." Graves returned the salute.

"That's not a bad idea," Bish said, "Boss why don't you get some rest?"

"Are you relieving me, Commander?"

"Only if you can't tell me when the last time you slept or ate was." Bish smirked.

It looked to Bish that simply asking had been enough to take the usual fight out of Graves. The Field Commander exhaled and rubbed his eyes as if suddenly overcome by fatigue.

"Very well, take the bridge Commander Lorck. Alert my cabin the second the situation changes."

"Will do, boss." Bish said as he took Graves' seat on the bridge. It felt good to be in charge for a while. He made a command on his wrist-comm to play some music, "So! Who likes The Opulent Pulsars?"


	12. Interlude - SpotRep

"SPOTREP"

DATE AND TIME: 2698, November 21, 1638 hours FST

UNIT: Artemis Shipyard, Outpost 189 – OP No. 5

SIZE: 50+ Militia Ships

ACTIVITY: Multiple jump signatures over Harmony

LOCATION: 262.586

UNIT SIGHTED: 1st Militia Fleet

TIME SIGHTED: 1613 hours FST

EQUIPMENT: Automated Long Range Sensors / Computer Anomaly Data Recorder / Observatory

SENDER'S ASSESSMENT: Hull profile matching MCS Annapolis confirms flagship of the First Militia Fleet.

NARRATIVE: At 1613 hours, Automated Long Range Sensors (#663) with Computer Anomaly Recorders (Serv. 1309) at Security Control detected multiple jump signatures with in the Freeport System. Observation Post Number 5 on Outpost 152 was closest to the planet and detected the signatures first but later, Outpost 197 and 243 confirmed the sightings and position of the First Militia Fleet. Visual sighting was confirmed by Observatories 152, 197, 243 by Security Control at 1622 FST and all ships ran through Hull Analytic Database and confirmed MCS Annapolis of the First Militia Fleet.

Note: Per Hammond Aerospace memo No. 22732-N, forwarding Spot Report to Admiral Tanvir Corbyn.

AUTHENTICATION: Eng. Itsuki Wantabe, Artemis Shipyard Security Control

 _Communique Intercept by Demeter Fleet SIGINT at November 22, 2212, 1719 hours FST_

 _Task Ongoing: Track Movements of Militia Fleet [07% CPU]_

 _Task Ongoing: Track Status of Colonial Navy [10% CPU]_

 _Task Created: Investigate IMCCN Admiral Tanvir Corbyn [21% CPU]_


	13. Chapter 11 - Noah

"Price of Admission"

Freeport System

Nexus

2698, November 21st

* * *

"It's repulsive isn't it?" Noah Greene said to Notary Isiah Ashburn.

The two men stood outside the IMC's only functioning beacon on Harmony. It had been the second to last of the great battles for Harmony. Standing high near the top of Cherry Knob was the huge imposing dish in its clinical orange and white colors sitting in the center of a highly acidic and electrical fog byproduct. Thick black cables jutted out of the structure, like the roots of an invasive tree, towards the control center burrowed deep into the side of the mountain. Where the basalt columns rose out of the hills with nature's majesty elevating the cherry blossom trees that gave the knob it's name. The beacon stood as a monolith to the antithesis of Harmony's values. A blight that represented the worse in mankind beneath that which was the most exotic and serene of nature. It made his stomach churn to know his people now relied on such an abomination.

Yet, it had to be done. For his people, he would bear such a disgrace. For when it was all over, they could dismantle the whole beacon and attempt to heal the land. Though, Greene suspected that the land would never truly be the same again. Grass would never grow in the valley, the cherry trees would never take root, and the soil would be unusable for the foreseeable future. To add to the indignity, the whole facility had to be maintained by the MRVNs. Automated drones that wore the caricature of human emotion.

Notary Ashburn nodded in agreement. For three years, Ashburn had been forced to work with the IMC. The Notary wasn't so high to be a threat and wasn't so low that he wasn't useful. Slowly, for three years, Ashburn had worked up the courage and the trust to feed the Volunteers useful information from within the IMC headquarters. Now, the two men were but a part of what their great peaceful society once was.

"But a bastard we must bear." Ashburn said kicking the broken chainlink fence that surrounded the length of the fog.

Greene chewed on those words for a minute allowing himself to fully process the entirety of their meaning. Finally he said, "I'd crush the whole thing to dust if I could Ashburn. It hurts to admit it aloud but I hate the IMC more than anything."

"I understand." Ashburn said quietly.

The words felt hollow but Greene knew that Ashburn understood, perhaps even better than himself what it meant to hate the IMC. Working with the invaders had taken a part of his soul. The Notary had been forced to watch his people suffer indignity after indignity at the Core Worlders hands. Greene, himself, did not believe he had Ashburn's type of resolve. Even so, the day that the IMC left Harmony, Ashburn breathed a sigh of relief.

"When our society left the war pillaged Core to start anew. Was that wrong?" Greene said, his voice quiet. "Were we misguided in our mission? D-did we bring this upon our selves? Perhaps... perhaps..." _Perhaps, we should never have come at all._ The thought stayed in his mind but Greene could not bring himself to say it.

"Perhaps, the hardest paths are the least walked for a reason." Ashburn supplied.

Greene was thankful for the rescue and turned his gaze silently back to the monolith that rose from the fog. A wind blew down from the peaks gently coaxing petals to fall from the trees. It was time to go. His stomach would settle when he was far from this place.

A makeshift bridge had been erected at the time of the battle. Chewed and pockmarked it had collapsed and was replaced with much more fitting bridge of solid design. The materials were IMC but it was crafted by Harmony. As the Magistrate crossed the bridge, his hands gliding across the rails that guarded against the toxic plunge below. It smelled of burnt batteries that left a metal taste in his mouth. Another gift from the IMC.

 _Repulsive._

The shattered trees and craters that lead to the summit were a standing testament to how ferocious the battle to the top had been. Planted explosives and prearranged killzones decimated their first forays into the mountain. Shattered trees sent shrapnel into men's eyes and the fallen logs delayed their advance. From mountain tops to the fields, there would always be some corner of the planet that would be forever IMC.

As he looked past his hand below in the fog, were the broken remains of a Spectre. It was here that the last of the combat drones had been beaten. In a macabre display, they appeared out of the toxic fog to fire and disappear. Those who had survived had to force their way in and slaughter the final last stand. Too much blood on both sides had been spilled, Greene wished to be done with it all.

Even as the Vanguard and Pathfinder groups returned with their prize of Titans, Noah would trade it all to the Militia to bring back the peaceful society his planet used to be. Seeing the scars and pockmarks on the door of the beacon told him otherwise. Harmony had been forever changed. There was a hope that the ones who had caused the IMC to come to their planet would be the ones to help Harmony heal. Suck out the poison, so to speak.

As Ashburn and him rode the cargo elevator to the main platform, it felt like being inside an alien ship. The inside was clean polished greys and whites. No, meaningful attempt at making desks for the terminals. The message was clear: humans weren't meant to work here. Yet now they did. The best they had left in technical experts worked tirelessly to understand and use the IMC technology plaguing their planet.

"Welcome Magistrate." One of the technicians held out their hand to him.

"Thank you, Pierce was it?"

"Peters." She told him.

"That's right, Reina Peters. My apologies."

"No harm done, sir. We've made contact with the Militia fleet. It's strange that those bright dots in the sky are ships." She looked out towards the glass over the doorway towards the sky.

"Not used to seeing them so far away?" He chuckled. His charm coming easily to the surface. Hoping to placate any of the technician's fears.

It was reassuring to see that the Militia were respecting their sovereignty. If someone were to ask him if he still resented the Militia for their actions he would tell them no. That the needs of the many out weighed the few and in times like these, one had to choose the correct ally. Privately, he was disgusted. Like the beacon he now stood in, he too had to use the Militia to help his people. The same Militia who in their greed hid weapons that justified the IMC's invasion in the first place. The same war that cost thousands their lives, destroyed their livelihoods, and transformed mountains into blights. He held them responsible and so to pay for their crimes against his people he would make the Militia their eternal guardians. Thrust the planet so close and dear to their hearts that they would fight tooth and nail to save it. Their own price of admission.

"No, Magistrate," Reina replied, "but I'd be more comfortable if they were farther away."

"I understand of course. However these are turbulent times for Harmony. We must be strong for the trials to come."

Her face fell. Greene had seen many do that before. To be so close to the end just to see the tunnel extend before you. Events demanded that their resolve be tested like never before. The hardest push to the finish for Harmony was just beginning.

"Is the channel open now?" Ashburn asked as he stepped off the elevator.

"Yes, Notary." An apprentice technician answered from behind a console.

"Magistrate, we should start as soon as possible! To make up for the fact that the crew was absent when hailed. We're _late_." There was urgency in the Notary's voice.

Noah Greene looked through the glass above the elevator towards the sky, where several dots propagated above the clouds. They were barely able to be made out except for the fact that so many were in such a cluster. Had no one been looking for them with telescopes they may have gone undetected for longer.

"You are right Notary. Open the link to the Militia, please."

"Standby, thirty percent." A technician stated as the beacon powered up.

"Power levels holding." Peters said from across the room.

"Beacon directed towards the Militia fleet."

Greene shut his eyes. So many things could go wrong but he hoped that the beacon would work at least once more.

"Holding," Peters restated.

Greene opened his eyes as the sound of robotic feet pattering towards him. It was one of the MRVNs. The yellow drone looked at him with it's robotic "eye" and made a friendly chime. The Magistrate shuddered. At least Titans looked like a machine made for a man, these drones' only purpose was to keep the beacon working. It showed just how decadent the IMC was. Drones did their labor, drones did their fighting. When it wasn't drones, it was mercenaries and Greene wasn't sure if that was better or worse. Disgusted, he waved it away.

"Beacon at a hundred percent, connection re-established." One of the techs said.

"This is Commander Bish Lorck of the 1st Militia Fleet. Go ahead Harmony." A voice echoing from above the Magistrate.

Not even a screen or holographic projection. _What the hell was the point of all that power then?_ Noah thought angrily. The only things the IMC were good at was destruction or pollution.

"Commander," Greene said stepping around the drone, "quite the title you've got there. It was only Mr. Lorck last time I recall."

"Times change, I guess. Mister..."

"You may call me Magistrate-General Noah Greene or Magistrate for now. I'm joined by Notary Isiah Ashburn."

"How do you do." The Notary said functionally.

Bish cleared his throat. "Will Governor Fox be joining us?"

"May she be at peace. Governor Fox was assassinated by the IMC not long after they arrived here, along with a majority of our peaceful government."

"I'm sorry to hear that," The line went quiet for a moment. "Oh good. Magistrate Greene and Notary Ashburn, may I present Field Commander Marcus Graves, leader of the Militia, Commander Sarah Briggs of the SRS, and Representative Marsh from the Coalition of the Frontier."

"Welcome back Commander Briggs." Greene smiled despite there being no camera but for the friendly effect on his voice.

"I'm sorry have we met?" Sarah said confused.

"No, not in person," Magistrate Green, "but your trio, that is to say General Anderson, Mr. Lorck, and yourself were brought to my attention by Governor Fox when you first arrived some six years ago. She asked for my guidance in whether or not we should accept you at all. For my part, I argued against it."

Ashburn grunted his curiosity. No doubt, he found the change in circumstances humorous.

"But she approved our request." Sarah said defensively.

"Yes," Greene acknowledged, "make no mistake, I did not call you all out here to hash out old history. I wanted you to understand what it meant that I was the one to call you out here. Piss off the biggest man in town, you make friends with the second biggest."

"So it would seem." A stern voice spoke.

"Sir, would I be right in guessing you would be Marcus Graves?" Greene estimated.

"That's correct." Graves confirmed.

"Would I also be correct in presuming that you and your Militia were responsible for the lack of Spectres on Harmony?"

"Yes, we assaulted multiple Spectre facilities after the battle of Demeter." Graves' voice was succinct and matter of fact.

Noah had been a judge long enough to hear the difference between the half truth and the whole truth. It was expected of course. First impressions were important especially when you were trying to make up for past actions. Especially, if you were a representative of a new fledgling government but Graves' voice struck something peculiar to Greene and he looked to Ashburn to confirm that fact.

When he looked over to Ashburn, the Notary was nodding in confirmation. Graves was ex-IMC. Having an ex-IMC in the Militia was encouraging news. Having a convert in their ranks meant that some had repented for their decisions. That lent credence to the anti-corporate nature of the Militia.

"Would it be poignant to say, that you used your information as a former IMC member to do so?"

The tension on the other end was palpable. No doubt there was silent deliberation on their part if that was to be a problem or not. Despite his open intention of there being no hostility for past aggression or mistakes, it was impossible for there not to be. No matter, his people needed aid and protection and he intended to give it to them. Let them go back to their fields and homes. Let war become a distant memory for Harmony.

"That's correct." Graves confirmed with reservation. "Then you're aware I used to be Vice-Admiral of the IMC Colonial Navy."

"I couldn't believe it before now." Those inside the beacon's control room had smiles and surprised expressions on their faces.

"Believe it," Bish said, "he has Mac's personal recommendation."

Questions were asked and soon the story of how the Militia gained the upper hand echoed throughout the control room. From the planet Troy in unmapped space to one new record after the other followed by the impossible, the destruction of Demeter itself. It was an enthralling tale and any doubts his people may have had would be hard pressed to dispute such results.

"So, Graves, why did you leave the IMC?" Ashburn asked.

"I... I had always tried to change and curtail the more extreme policies of the IMC. However, at Demeter, Spyglass was given authority by Hammond himself, to call off my order for an evacuation." Graves paused, perhaps for reflection or for memory. "Then I was relieved of my duties and others disagreed with that, so they freed me and we joined the Militia."

"Who is this Spyglass person?" It was Greene's turn to ask Graves a question.

"Spyglass is a manifestation of the IMC's computational database." The Field Commander answered.

"A robot."

"Yes."

"Field Commander, the IMC employs robotic labor, robotic soldiers, and now it has a robotic leader. Is there nothing that is not automated within the IMC now?"

Graves took a deep breath, "Magistrate, the IMC, is a desperate and hungry corporation who's primary goal isn't to save the Core Worlds but to enslave the Frontier. Spyglass only has one operator – Hammond and together, they will try to contro-"

"I'm representative Marsh with the Coalition. Pardon my interruption, but what I believe Field Commander Graves is trying to say is that the IMC is low on human beings since many defected after MacAllan blew up Demeter and Graves attacked their Spectre facilities."

"I suppose we owe you and this MacAllan a great thanks." Ashburn said thoughtfully.

"Indeed, we do." Noah agreed with Isiah. "Our major break in our war with the IMC, came directly from their dwindling numbers of Spectres but I had no idea so many humans had left too."

"There's still much to put right." Graves' tone was remorseful.

From there the conversation turned back to Harmony and it's needs. Greene and Ashburn negotiated on some points but for now it was decided that until the delegation could meet in person most of the extensive datawork would be left until later. For now, limited number of Militia dropships would be allowed to deposit supplies to the more desperate areas of Harmony. Despite his wishes, the beacon would have to stay. Militia Engineers and technicians would assist in training his people on how to maintain the facilities and work to minimize it's toxic output. Nexus' spaceport would have to be reopened and possibly expanded. Harmony was quickly going from backwater agricultural center to a partner in an interstellar government entity. It was an enthralling process to be a part of.

About an hour later, Greene took a break from it all and went outside. He walked over the span and back towards the fence. Here he was back around the blades of grass and the late November heat from Harmony's sun. Things he understood and loved. Behind him, the electric fog cracked and sizzled and Greene suddenly wished to be far from this site all over again.

Pulling off his tweed coat and laying it on the brown grass, Greene sat and observed the valley below. The IMC had certainly picked a wonderful view for their beacon. From here over the tops of splintered trees he could see the burnt fields and in the distance Nexus. _It would've been beautiful this time of year._ Greene thought to himself. Deep foot falls of a Titan disturbed the peace as a Vanguard trudged up the hill. He could hear the hatch open and a man drop to the ground.

"Magistrate?" Uji's voice said tentatively.

"Come Pilot," Noah beckoned him over, "take a seat."

Uji came and reluctantly sat next to him. Equal parts nervous and thrilled, the way his chest rose and fell rapidly. "I didn't mean to disturb you, sir."

"You didn't. I was just enjoying how quiet it is without the constant whirring of ship engines. I forgot how still the sky could be."

Uji looked up at the sky but said nothing and Greene didn't force him to. It was best to enjoy the last moments of a totally free people. A small urge deep inside him wanted to keep it that way. That the IMC would be gone forever. Such fantasies, of course, could never actually be true. Joining the Coalition of the Frontier now made them independent not neutral. A classification that Marsh explained would be pivotal in gaining recognition from the Core Worlds. The Magistrate knew that words were just words unless actions proved them true.

"Magistrate," Uji finally broke the silence, "what will happen to the volunteers?"

"They'll go home. If all works well, once Harmony joins the Militia and their Coalition, we will never be at war again."

"And those that want to keep fighting?"

The question pained him. Hadn't Harmony fought enough in a conflict it never meant to join? The reality of those still impassioned with fighting the IMC saddened him. Master-Pilot Uji Horata of Mead's Pass, had been in the old days a loader operator working in the silos of his town. Carefree and rowdy; the IMC's occupation had stamped out his good nature. A casualty of the changing times.

"What are you saying son?" Noah drawled.

"With your permission Magistrate, I'd like to join them. There's so much more we can learn from them."

Noah looked Uji in the eyes. A feeling of hatred towards Uji briefly flashed inside him. "Haven't you fought enough? Isn't there a place you call home here?"

"With all due respect, Magistrate, no."

"Well," Noah couldn't keep the tone of disappointment out of his voice, "it's not in my power to give or deny. That's a choice you have to make for yourself, but if I could persuade you, I would urge you to stay. Stay and rebuild."

"I can't." Uji said.

"Can you really hate them so much that you'd join another cause just to keep fighting them?"

"Magistrate, all these years, you said it was about Harmony. That we were all patriots and volunteers in the great cause. I believe that. The Cause now extends to the whole Frontier."

The Magistrate went back to looking over the valley. His people had been changed. It was as he feared that the IMC had left their mark on more than just the fields and forests. They had left their mark on his people's hearts as well. Their Titans of agriculture were now Titans of war. Greene hoped not all the Vanguards would go, that many would choose to stay. He knew he would be wrong.

"There is nothing more important than Harmony." Greene replied.

"I agree. That's why we need to fight the IMC outside the planet. There's more suffering like us."

"That's what the Militia are for. Let them carry that burden. Help us rebuild, Uji."

Uji shook his head. "The Vanguards are leaving Harmony. We're Frontier patriots now."

Noah scoffed. "Go then, leave."

Uji lingered for a moment then he got up and returned to his Titan. The thunderous steps of the 20 foot machine reverberated down the mountain. Anger welled up inside him and Noah wanted to scream at Uji. Deep down, he decided that he had known something like this would happen. That some would leave to join the Militia's banner. The show of strength and modernization that was meant to impress the Militia had been a two-edge sword, it had impressed his own people too.

Noah Greene looked at the toxic fog and then up towards the pink petals falling in the wind from the cherry blossoms. Each one withered and burned as it touched the electric fog. He rose his hand over the whole beacon and then closed his fist. Willing himself to have the ability to crush the whole beacon. To take back what the IMC had taken from him.


	14. Chapter 12 - Corbyn

_Hi everyone! This chapter in particular was something of a process but every rewrite really helped bring it into focus. Anyhow, thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoy! :D_

* * *

"Snowroof"

New Pretoria System

IMS Gibraltar

2698, November 22nd

* * *

Corbyn's fingers traced the length of Natalia's back to where it met the silk sheets of their bed. She lay on her stomach, hands on her chin with the tablet propped up against her pillow, reading the SpotRep over and over again. A strand of her jet black hair fell loose from behind her ear and Corbyn looped it back into place. He watched her eyes as they read over the last line of the report and then jump back up to to the top, rereading the whole thing again. Each time, her face would go through the same motions, a gasp of breath, then a trace of a smile forming on her lips, and then her teeth would reveal themselves with a breathy giggle.

When she had finished it for what could have been the eighth time, Natalia rolled over onto her back and hugged the tablet to her breasts. She laid her cheek on the side of the pillow, her face aglow with excitement, pride, joy. A snicker escaped from her throat. Her chest rose and when her mouth opened a deep belly laugh escaped her. Fingers wrapped around the edges of the tablet as she pulled it up close to her chin.

He watched her belly tremble as the sheets gave way as her knees emerged. Natalia's body curled up as she laughed. It was the same laugh she had made the day she had left the SSIB after they married. A laugh that was only teased out when she knew that her opponent was going to lose. Corbyn knew that the SSIB had lost one of their best that day. Slowly, she let the tablet slide off but still curled under her arm. Running a hand through her hair and sighed a deep breath.

Natalia cleared her throat. "Mm, I'm positively giddy."

"You are." Corbyn said.

He reached a hand over behind her ear and pulled his wife into a kiss. Her free hand squeezed his wrist, while her thumb affectionately rubbed his hand. Each kiss they took left her lips trembling. His hand moved along her neck to her shoulder and then along her forearm. Tanvir stopped and felt goose bumps on her arms as a shiver shot up her spine. Their lips parted as she gasped.

Her voice breathless. "I haven't been this excited since the Jupiter Gate battle."

Tanvir responded wordlessly by pulling her leg over him. Her body twisting over onto her side. The tablet forgotten as it clattered to the deck. She wove her arms around his neck, one hand running through his hair. Natalia gently tugged on his hair as she nibbled his lower lip. He chuckled huskily and squeezed her thigh tighter against him.

Natalia released his lip, throwing her head back with a giggle. Her hand rested against his shoulder and brought her forehead against his. Corbyn took in her eyes and features. She was the love of his life. A woman who could've run the entirety of the Sol System's intelligence bureau if she wanted to. Nothing could make him happier than to see them both the conquerers of the Frontier. They had each waited patiently for an opportunity like this to present itself. Their ambitions held back only by the rules on the board, waiting for each piece to fall into place. The Demeter Gate's destruction, Graves' removal as CINCFRONT, Dorsen's protest, and the disappearance of Spyglass had all provided the opportunity. All he had to do now was take it.

Tanvir guided himself between her folds and her body tensed then relaxed. Both of them sucking in shallow breathes of air between kisses. He pulled her leg above his waist. The sheets were tossed aside, the world outside their bed lost to a hazy whirl of hunger and desire. All of Corbyn's senses were enraptured with the scent of her hair, the touch of her skin, the taste of her lips, the heat of their two bodies entwined.

Natalia's hips twisted, urging him to lay on his back. Tanvir accepted; his hands following the curve of his wife's body to her hips. Each thrust eliciting a quick inhale as Natalia's hands wrapped around his arms. As they continued, she arched forward, tossing her hair to one side while bracing herself against the backboard. Their pace grew rapid, until at once they came together – united.

The air was always much colder after they finished. The cabin's air filters gentle breeze cool against their sweat. Natalia with a shiver pulled herself off him and cuddled against his chest. Corbyn groggily groped for a sheet to wrap them both but in the end, settled for holding her close. It was simpler and more intimate.

"Tell me," her voice breaking the silence, "how will you do it?"

"Knowing where Graves will is my greatest advantage." He said, brushing a hand gently through her hair. "His best trait then becomes his weakness: his meticulousness. Graves likes to consolidate his holdings. Which is an effective long term strategy. I believe, he will then attempt to shore up his gains. That will be when we strike, when he is most vulnerable. In orbit, giving aid to Harmony. Disable his ships and let gravity take care of the rest."

Natalia nuzzled his neck, "I like it."

"It's current pen name is Snowroof. Though I'm sure that will change once High Command makes their adjustments. There's always corporate and political interests to keep in mind but the main plan is simple and effective."

His wife rolled off his chest and onto a pillow. Corbyn watched as she soon fell asleep. He was quite tired himself but he had to make an important call. There was still Francis' indiscretion to sort out. It had been enough time since the gala that he could reasonably call without arousing suspicion.

Throwing on a robe, Corbyn entered his personal planning room. The holo-board in the centre of the room was dark, the Snowroof simulation complete. Tanvir pulled out the receiver built into the side of the board and dialed the bridge. The Comms-Officer then set the comms array to transmit FTL to the _IMS_ _Helix –_ Corbyn's old flagship.

There was, briefly, a romantic time of space exploration. When the Titan Wars ended. The jump drives, burned once more for the Frontier. Ships built by the main contractor of Sol, the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation, renamed many super-carriers after nebulas to give them a new feel of promise. Corbyn had just taken command of the _SSN Euphrates_ , when it was rebranded the _Helix._ The Expeditionary Fleet, lead by the personally named _Odyssey_ of Vice-Admiral Graves, Hero of the Jupiter Gate would spearhead the rebuilding of the Core Systems.

Yet, a perfect storm of discontent brewed beneath the surface. During the Titan Wars, the IMC broke or renegotiated contracts with their workers as the focus had been on the Core. Homesteaders who had made homes that belonged to the IMC's legal right to prospect, refused to follow the law of the Core Systems. What came to be known as a Militia started a Frontier Insurrection that now a full blown war.

Finally, the _Helix_ received his call as Francis' voice interrupted his thoughts. "This is the _IMS Helix,_ go ahead _Gibraltar_."

" _Helix,_ " Corbyn answered, "I need an Aircraft Inventory Assessment for your available crafts."

"One moment, _Gibraltar._ We weren't informed of any new operation."

"That's because it's just come about. Go to OSET and verify encryption."

During the mid point of the Demeter Offensive, the Artimiseum station had had it's OSET encryption hacked and the AOD guns of the station turned on the _Sentinel_. Since then, OSET had been overhauled to be even stronger than it's predecessor.

"OSET locked in and verify Rho Delta One Seven Nine." Francis said as he came back on the line.

"Confirmed, Rho Delta One Seven Nine." Tanvir said and then got straight to business. "Well? Would you care to explain yourself, Francis?"

Trevelyan laughed, the stiffness he held on the bridge melted away. "You're not still sore are you?"

"You very well know how I feel about Marder."

"Oh come now, Tanny. Just a bit of fun. Spice up the gala and all that."

Corbyn clenched his teeth. _Sometimes a promoted piece forgets itself._ He willed himself to calm down before he replied stiffly, "Yes – a clever bit of political theater that."

Francis chuckled. "You were always so serious, Tanny. That gala was a bore."

"Never mind the gala," Corbyn changing the subject, "how's your aircraft? How many are operational?"

"Ah, plenty. Around ninety percent, I'd say." Tanvir quickly did the math. So about 160 of the 180 were still operational. That would do.

"Good. Proceed to resupply and then reroute to the Freeport System, Artemisium."

"Artemisium? What for?"

"Francis," Corbyn said with a smirk, "how do you feel about Secretary Amherst?"

The other Admiral's voice turned dark. "Not bloody fondly but you know that."

"I think there should be change in High Command. If you help me – you'll have my support."

Francis chuckled. "I'd appreciate that but only a miracle would shake Amherst out."

Corbyn smiled. "Good because that is exactly what I had in mind."

Francis was quiet for a moment as he mulled over Corbyn's words. "I'm listening"

Natalia dabbed her hair with the towel as she sat in front of the vanity mirror. Her skin was still flushed from the heat of the shower. Tanvir leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed as his wife thought about the conversation he just had.

"You would have Francis become Secretary of the Colonial Navy?" Her voice pitched with disbelief.

"Yes." He answered.

"Is that wise, husband? I can't imagine he'd be content with such a position."

"No, but it would give him the power to bestow me as Commander of all IMC Naval Forces."

"The third highest power under the likes of Francis and Spyglass." She answered dumping the towel on the counter. "There's more risk than I'd like."

"As it stands, Amherst has divided the problem among the Admirals leaving us in charge to make our own decisions in lieu of Spyglass' guidance. Reinstating the COMIMCNAVFOR position would bring the Navy back under unified control."

"What of Francis?"

"Once his usefulness is done, I can think of a better replacement." Tanvir put his hands over his wife's shoulders as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

Natalia failed to hide her excitement. "I quite like that idea. Still, best to put yourself in charge."

"First, Graves must be given a blow to secure our footing. Then Amherst must be ousted, only then will our control of the Navy be complete. Next will come the unification of the IMC. Once that's done, it won't matter what position I'm in. Our control will be complete."

"I see." Natalia suddenly stood up, shrugging on a robe. "And what would shake out Amherst?"

"A demonstration of his uselessness. Prove to everyone that dedication to Spyglass is meaningless." Tanvir answered.

"Yes. I think I have an idea of how."

"You do?"

"Well," She grinned, "it's something of a long shot but if Spyglass is as dormant as you say. Couldn't you just ask him to appear? Like Auchenburg did. There's a good chance that it will be remain unanswered. That show would politically weaken his stance. Though, there's the chance that the Loyalists will see that as a transgression against Hammond."

Corbyn sneered. "It's like they revere him."

Natalia shrugged. "So, who then would work against us?"

"Dr. Ysiv of Vinson Dynamics. He has the most political power now with the Loyalists. No doubt, he will pose the largest problem to our plans. His push for more Spectres in the Marines will conflict with our interests. Remove him and we alleviate our problem."

"Ah and with Aurora closer to Dance..." Natalia nodded as she put it together.

"Yes, we just need to push his want to reform just a little harder and he'll remove Yisv for us."

"Bravo, dear. What should happen if he pushes too hard."

Tanvir chuckled, "I'm not a complete Dorsenist. There are facilities that need to be run by MRVNs and until Human numbers can be replenished Spectres bolster our numbers. However, with all those machines under it's control – leaves me ill at ease."

"Quite." She shivered and tightened the robe around her.

Words like this could never have been said the year before. The rumors surrounding disobedient or disloyal commanders who's ships mysteriously exploded after drydock or disobedient Marines executed for not following orders. The fear of Hammond's reach stretched even to the distant fringes of the Frontier. Not much stock should be given to rumors however. They were most likely to try and scare over-privileged officers to from working together but those times were changing, weren't they?

Corbyn smiled. "Now, with Snowroof ready, I shouldn't keep Graves waiting."

"Yes. I should get my things packed."

He nodded. The _Gibraltar_ wouldn't be as warm without her guidance but Naval tradition didn't allow for civilians aboard during combat. For now, that meant his wife couldn't join him. See the outcome of a plan they had worked so hard to make reality. He had very much enjoyed her company while it lasted, and the journey from the Columbia System to New Pretoria was at an end.

Corbyn hunched over the holo-board with the ship's Marine Colonel Maxim Ilvulov. The song "Dark Was the Night" played softly in the background. Over the comm-channel the head of Hammond Aerospace, Adrian Wolsely, updated the two officers on the current strength of the Artemisium Shipyards.

"... next we have what remains of the _Sentinel's_ air wing. A nearly all female fighter squadron called 'Coven' that goes by the callsign, Blackcat." Wolsely finished.

Wolsely sent the data over the comm-link and the Coven's insignia appeared on the board. It showed a laughing skeleton stirring a cauldron with a missile. Above the insignia was the unit's nickname, Coven, and on the bottom was the unit's code: VFA-92. Next to it, data regarding the air wing such as: wing commander, number of Phantoms, etc. Corbyn uploaded all the data to his holo-board's databanks. Next, the Admiral, brought up the full defenses of the Shipyard onto the projection.

"So, we have the 3088th Marine Detachment, understrength. A platoon of mercenary Pilots, callsign Nomad, and a air wing of Phantoms with whatever materials survived the initial crash." Corbyn clucked his tongue.

"It might survive the first encounter but a sustained landing by the Militia would burn through that." Ilvulov noted.

"Most likely." Tanvir agreed.

"Tanvir the Artemisium shipyards can't be breached again. The Aerospace stock would plummet and my support would mean nothing."

Corbyn saw that the Yagara that would form the backbone of his Snowroof operation was not as sturdy as he presumed it to be. Any operation could be compromised if it did not have a suitable return base.

"The cannons still work, correct?" Ilvulov asked Wolsely.

"Of course," the Aerospace chief answered crossly, "except for 207. It sustained too much damage from the last battle."

"Well two hundred and ninety nine guns are still plenty." Corbyn grinned at Ilvulov.

"Indeed, sir." The Colonel answered.

"Wolsely," Corbyn said, "A friend of mine, Admiral Trevelyan, will be jumping to the shipyards as soon as possible. He has a carrier that will bolster your air wing considerably for the time being before the _Gibraltar_ arrives."

"Admiral," Ilvulov interjected, "couldn't General Dance provide support as well with his carrier?"

"Yes, the ninety-ninth would help bolster the Shipyards, while the main force strikes at Harmony."

"Two carriers won't make much of a difference." Wolsely noted pessimistically.

"The First Fleet has only one strategic advantage over us and it's remaining unseen. We know where they are and so they've lost the advantage. Furthermore, Graves took months to work out where the Militia were headed to Victor. Three months to move on Columbia and one month to move on Harmony. We're already better prepared than he was." Corbyn lectured him.

"Yes but Graves is moving faster and with more experience each campaign." The Aerospace Head countered.

"But with no way of replenishing his losses as quickly as we can. He can rush to a defenseless planet as soon as he likes but Artemisium is no easy place to crack. His Militia is not keen on hard targets. Graves will most likely just run to avoid opposition all together."

"What do you mean?"

"I am quite sure that Graves, with all of his past knowledge, will try to run as soon as Harmony is secured. Eager to not get drawn into a fight with his fleet. That is why speed is of the essence. We must catch Graves before he moves on again. There won't be another chance like this again."

The comm line was quiet for a second before Wolsely sighed. "Fine. We will continue monitoring the First Fleet for any developments."

"Good, keep me apprised." Corbyn cut the connection and rubbed his temple.

"Makes me appreciate being a Marine." Ilvulov commented.

"Probably best to call Dance next," Tanvir said, his mind already moving to the next problem.

"Would the Admiral like me to stay?" Ilvulov asked.

Corbyn looked at the Colonel. It certainly made sense to keep him around. Dance was impressed with Ilvulov and having the Marine Colonel on the call would give the impression of more interdepartmental cooperation.

"Yes. That would be a good idea." Tanvir dialed the bridge comms officer. "Yes patch me through to the _IMS_ _Eta_ _Carinae._ "

The _Carinae_ it appeared was orbiting Eden in the Yuma System while the General was securing the planet's space elevator and installing AA turrets around the reinstalled oil pumps. According to the XO, Dance wasn't expected to return ship side for another day.

"Can't you boost our signal through to him?" Corbyn pressed.

"I can of course," the XO replied, a Lieutenant named Bradley, "but they don't call him the Bulldog for nothing, sir. I've known the General long enough to know, he won't budge until the job is done."

 _Admirable trait._ Corbyn thought, "Regardless, boost us through Colonel."

"Right away, sir."

The call was received by the General's Field HQ, who relayed it to the Company the General was currently inspecting. By the time, Dance had answered the comm line, it had been ten minutes. The comm line crackled as Dance answered calmly.

"Corbyn, how are you?"

A gunshot rang out. There were shouts in the background and calls for return fire.

"Christ, what is that?" Corbyn asked alarmed.

"Mm? Oh! Just some dispirited workers who tried to stop working. It'll be back in order shortly. For what do I owe this call, Admiral?"

A mix of assault rifle fire droned on.

"Ahem, yes, listen Dance, Graves has been sighted on Harmony. I'm assembling a task force to get him while he's standing still."

"A task force you say? Sounds like naval work."

"Well, I'm in need of some air support and good men. You came to mind."

"I'm – Kaminski! Put a forty mil through that house before they use something larger than a Kraber!"

The thunderous claps from a 40mm cannon dominated the comm-channel for a few moments. Corbyn saw Ilvulov arch his eyebrows as they waited for the noise to clear. As he waited for the line to clear, Tanvir busied himself with updating the Snowroof operation. Roughly a minute later, Dance came back on the comm line.

"Apologies Admiral. Now what's this about a task force?"

Corbyn gave him a brief description of the situation that kept more of the sensitive details out while over an unsecured line. The General remained quiet while Corbyn spoke. It was a refreshing change of pace.

"Corbyn," Dance said after Tanvir finished, "the majority of this offense has two major issues for me. One, the majority of this action will be in space against the veteran Militia First Fleet not it's decimated Marauder Corps. So Marine participation is little. Second, if we present a hard target before we can snap the jaws on Graves, he might run. Better to let him come to my Marines on Artemisium."

Corbyn thought he could hear the smile in the General's voice. Regardless, he didn't hear a no from Dance and better yet, his assessment on Graves was the same.

"General, when will you be able to communicate via OSET?"

"A day at the very least. These employees should be thankful I'm not replacing them with Marvins after all. Once the situation is normalized, I'll return to the _Eta Carinae_."

"Understood. Carry on General." Corbyn dropped the channel, then he turned to his Marine Colonel."There is the very distinct possibility that with these delays, Graves could strike at Artemisium, Ilvulov."

"Yes, sir. I was considering it."

"I'm going to transfer the shipyard's tactical data to your data pad. Give me your best defensive assessment for deployment as soon as you can. We may have to deploy some of the Ship's Marines. Dismissed."

"Aye, sir." Ilvulov saluted then pivoted on his heel.

Corbyn checked his watch. _1719 hours_. That was it then, it was time to walk Natalia out to the hanger. He slowly made his way to their bedroom. Natalia and Aurora where heaving the suitcases off the bed and handing them over to a shipman. The shipman nodded his head with a sir as he collected the two suitcases. Corbyn returned the nod and then turned his focus to his wife.

She made a sad smile as she stepped towards him. Their fingers finding each others and entwining. They each looked into each other's eyes. Neither spoke, it was as if a single noise would shatter the moment forever. At long last, Corbyn pulled away one of his hands and turned to the door. Natalia wrapped her other hand around his arm as they followed the shipman down to the main hanger.

Unlike Dance's arrival, Natalia's departure would receive no fanfare. A Goblin taxied on the take off platform ready for it's precious cargo to board. The shipman and aurora walked up the drop ramp into the craft as Corbyn and Natalia stood together in their last few moments. When the luggage was stowed the shipman wordlessly saluted him and departed for other duties. A frown tugged on his lips.

"Be safe my love." Tanvir said towards the hanger doors.

She squeezed against his arm, "Always."

"While you're away, I need you to write a speech. It might possibly be the most important speech in our lives."

Natalia sucked in a breath. "This is it then?"

"Yes." He answered. "You must write several. Each depending on the outcome."

"I will," Her words caught on her breath.

Corbyn wrapped her in a hug, taking in the smell of her hair and the radiance of her warmth. "I love you."

"I love you." She sighed.

Slowly, she uncoiled from him and walked up the drop ramp assisted by Crew chief and then Aurora. Corbyn watched as the drop ship departed towards the planet beneath them, emptier now without his wife by his side. His golden record. The music in his head subsided as his world grew dimmer.

 _Dark was the night, indeed._ Corbyn returned to the bridge, returning the salute of the crew. Each face turned towards him as he took his place by the holo-board. He began running through each part of the debarkation procedure. All stations reported green; ready to go.

"Alert all stations, departing orbit in three minutes." Corbyn said to the XO.

"Aye, sir."

"Comms, officer. Patch me through to the ship."

"Yes, sir. Set to your station Admiral."

"Attention all hands, this is the Admiral speaking." He heard the slight echo of his voice from the hanger glass behind him. "Today we embark unto history. We are heading to the Freeport System, where the traitor Graves has shown himself. Our mission is to engage his First Fleet and leave it nothing but jetsom. In the days ahead, each of you will prove one very important fact over our enemy. That our sovereignty over the Frontier isn't a question but a matter of time.

"Look at the sailor next to you, the Marine, the Titan Pilot, the fighter pilot, the engineer! All of you have left something behind to come out here. Each of you has taken the contract onto yourselves to benefit the Core Systems! Graves' Militia has no such cause! No such burden! They strike selfishly to deny our right to resources. Their triumphs will mean nothing in the decades to come! I promise you on the burning embers of Demeter, stand with me now and we shall be victorious!"

He clicked the comm-channel off.

"Admiral, main engines engaged. Ready for jump." A liaison reported.

"Set jump point to zero zero two point seven nine four. Our first jump point, the Yukon System." Corbyn gripped the rails around the holo-board."

"Aye, Admiral. Zero zero two point seven nine four. Yukon System confirmed." Helm set the coordinates into the drive system.

"Bring up the radiation shields. Jump when ready." Corbyn watched as the jump drive engaged, pulling the _Gibraltar_ into a bright blinding light.

"Jumping in three... two... one... mark."

Corbyn closed his eyes for an instant and opened them again in a new system. He gazed at the star of the Yukon System bathed the system in heavy solar radiation. More than 200 years ago, humanity had sent out the first probe to explore past the bounds of the Sol System. Brilliantly planning this probe to slide between Jupiter, Saturn, and beyond the Heliosphere. Now, even planets swathed in the deadly radiation of the neutron star could hold life. The promise of Humanity's reach made real.

Reaching a population of nearly 90 million people, the planet of Gridiron was the next largest stronghold after Demeter. On it's radiation scared surface, prospective recruits toiled under it's sun to become Pilots at Whitehead. It's defense fleet, orbited around the massive desert planet under it's dark side, away from the continuous rays of the system's sun. The city of New Anchorage was home to Vinson Dynamics, the largest manufacturer of cybernetic replacements and experimental weapon design as well as Gridiron Transport Services (the largest manufacturer of cars on the Frontier). All that Gridiron needed was vast gas reserves and you could have called it New Demeter.

Yet, this was just one stop on the way to Freeport. There would be more systems like this one, each with it's own achievements. Each providing another reason why the Militia couldn't be allowed to prevail. The IMC had built this. The IMC had claims to the Frontier. Corbyn believed in the law of sovereignty because without it, none of this could be his. When he had finally risen to power, those same rights would work in his favor. Just like Voyager and it's precisely planned tour of the Sol System, Corbyn would precisely plan his rise to power and take for his wife and him the largest empire in Human history. Tanvir tapped his fingers against the holo-board and hummed quietly to himself the first four notes of Beethoven's Fifth.


	15. Chapter 13 - Bish

_Hi, hope you've all been well! I realize this might be 13 chapters late but if you haven't read Banners yet, I would recommend it going forward. While writing Remnants, I've tried to make it so new readers wouldn't be confused but it wouldn't hurt to brush up on the events leading up to this (if you haven't already hopefully! :D) At any rate, thanks for reading, cheers!_

* * *

"Hacker, Commander, Diplomat, Friend"

Freeport System

MCS Annapolis

2698, November 23rd

* * *

"This is a great step for the Coalition, Commander Lorck."

Bish nodded as Dr. Sarakawa of Kodai Industries rubbed his mechanical eye with a cleaning cloth. A long time supplier of the Militia, Sarakawa had joined the Coalition of the Frontier on it's capital world of Concord. He was now their largest supplier of raw materials throughout Coalition space. The price had been high, with Kodai holdings destroyed all across the Frontier by the IMC and it's former board assassinated.

"It is," Bish agreed, "large amounts of the planet's fields remain intact and once we expand the space port, Graves estimates that we will be able to start shipping grain and other resources back to Concord."

"That's excellent." A new voice said belonging to Admissions Committee Councilor Warren. "Representative Marsh has informed us of their willingness to join the Coalition. This will greatly increase our cause."

"Indeed, plus create new jobs for Kodai. I hope they will allow us mining rights to the planet." Sarakawa folding his fingers."

"Things are still a bit touchy. There's still so much damage left over from the IMC." Bish made an uncomfortable smile at the camera. "It's too soon to be thinking of mining rights in my opinion."

"Well," Warren cleared his throat, "Marsh's report says that Magistrate Greene has been very cooperative and enthusiastic about joining the Coalition. In fact, Chairman Pickering has expressed great interest in welcoming Harmony as a Partner."

 _Expressed great interest_ was political code for _wants it to happen_. Bish stifled a groan. The Coalition Council was former planetary governors or ICA administrators, all better versed in political games than he was. Not that he was against Harmony becoming a Partner in the Coalition but he was still cautious.

"I understand but for now, we should be proceed slowly so as to not upset the locals." Bish put his hands calmingly in the air.

Warren scoffed, "If MacAllan was still in charge, Harmony would have already joined the Coalition. Graves needs to understand that each planet that joins gives us credibility."

The Councilor had no right to say that. Bish had only known Mac for a short time, but he was pretty sure Mac would be against pushing others to join. He of all people would've understood the difference between cooperation and occupation.

Instead of correcting him Bish said, "I understand Councilors, however, recovery efforts should be our main focus as of now."

"For now," Yisv agreed, "under the Articles of Coalition, Harmony must support it's Partners. A stronger Kodai will benefit us all."

"Indeed. There's also the Victor Patronage to consider. They're eager to return to their home planet. They could withdraw their support if we focus too long on Harmony and those gas reserves would be beneficial." Warren added.

"Yes but the First Fleet can't be in multiple systems at once. Once Sarah's plan to capture the Artemisium shipyard is successful, we will be able to increase our ship building capacity." Bish said trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

"The Concord Naval yards can only refit so many civilian hulls and they don't have the ability to build more anti ship cannons. I agree with Commander Lorck. The capture of the Artemisium Shipyard would be a great addition to the Coalition." Sarakawa pulled up a tablet and began typing on it.

"Very well, I will notify the Chairman on our progress. In the meantime, you will express our interest in making harmony a Partner in the Coalition and make sure Graves understands that." The Admissions Councilor ended the meeting.

Bish felt drained. _No wonder everyone hates politics_. Sarah had always disliked Sarakawa and his corporate decisions. Bish had understood both sides and usually tried to get the two of them to cooperate. Now, Sarakawa was less concerned with being crushed by the IMC and now more concerned with the expansion of his business. Still Bish couldn't completely write him off yet, he had backed Graves' play to take the shipyard.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Each point from the meeting weighing him down. There was the urge to put his headphones on and lose himself back in the familiarity of coding. There was still OSET II to crack open and most of Bish's free waking hours had been to playing around with it. A couple beers and a good album and Bish could unwind.

His wrist-comm trilled from an incoming call. It was Emslie. Bish frowned and took a deep breath.

"Hey Emslie," Bish answered trying not to sound grumpy.

"Woah! Bad time Commander?" Emslie jovial tone joshed him.

"No, just got out of a meeting with the Council."

"Ah. That's why you're grouchy. Come down to the Titan bay, I got something that will cheer you up."

Bish wanted to say no, that he was due to meet with Graves right after in the CIC to update him on the Council meeting. _Why not?_ He told himself. Graves could wait.

Right off the elevator Bish could see something was up. The big tell, was the Vanguard Titans in the bay. Their designs were all unstandardized like the way black market Titans usually were. Most had red paint over their IMC white parts. In the middle of the bay was Emslie and his crew talking with the Harmony Pilots. As Bish made his way out of the list, Emslie caught his attention and waved him over.

"Commander Bish, meet Uji Horrata, 1st Harmony Vanguard."

"Pilot," Bish shook his hand.

"Honor to meet you sir." Uji replied.

"The Squad Leader here and I were discussing the details of how they built their Titans." Emslie smirked.

Bish nodded. Graves would definitely want to hear about this.

"It was by necessity," Uji added, "there weren't a lot of spare Titans around we had to improvise around the Scorch Chasis. More stable."

"How's that?" Bish looked at Emslie than to Uji.

"There's always a chance of a Titan Core going critical." Uji explained. "Scorch's have a new core that doesn't destabilize in it's doom state. Better and easier to mod."

"Show him." Emslie grinned.

Bish watched as Uji clambered up his Titan and pulled out a green and black cylinder from the back with a dull click. Uji hefted the thing onto his back and climbed back down. The Pilot presented the object to Bish.

"This is Vinson Dynamic's present to the Frontier. Titan batteries. Stable and portable."

Uji handed the battery to Bish, who was surprised by how much it weighed as he nearly dropped it. Emslie and the others chuckled. The Commander ignored them as he held the battery by it's handle to look at it more closely. There were "groves" around the top to guide and lock the battery into place. Simple and like pulling on a airlock release mechanism. He had to hand it to the IMC and their allies. They made good stuff.

"Stable huh?" Bish stated.

"You betcha, Commander." Emslie said. "They don't doom state like the others. You can push a scorch much harder than you could an Ogre. And they're based on the same chassis."

"Hm," Bish grunted and tossed the battery back at Pilot Horrata with both hands.

The Pilot caught it and slung it over his shoulder. Bish saw the cocky grin on Uji's face. Like he belonged here. Something about it wasn't right and Bish wasn't sure why. He fought the urge to heave a sigh and rub his eyes. He'd been working with the Council for too long and their paranoia must be rubbing off on him.

"Hey Ems," Bish said to the Engineer, "a lot of this is patch work. Think you can make a solid design out of it?"

"I've been making drafts off of the broadcast for the last month, I'd love to disassemble one."

"Pilot Horrata, think you can get us a spare Scorch?" Bish asked.

Uji's cocky grin was still there, "Yeah, I think I know someone who'd be okay with giving their's up."

"That's great," Emslie clapped his hands together excited, "so I'm gonna need one of your guys to take us through your designs here."

Bish's wrist-comm beeped another alert. _Graves._

"Sorry, I'm on my way up now boss," Bish said as soon as he answered the call.

"Better be." There was something foreboding in his tone.

Even before the elevator doors opened, Bish could hear the commotion on the other side. Captain Droz was there to meet him first at the door, tablet in hand. Droz had replaced Captain Bolton as Sarah's second, after the former passed away on Demeter. Captain Droz was in his late 20's and a little stiff like Bolton was. Bish never ran into him much but that wasn't a bad thing.

"Commander. Commander Briggs said to give this to you ASAP and needs your decision." Droz thrusted the tablet into his hand.

"Uhh," Bish took a quick look over the screen. There was some dual band OSET codes he recognized the style of but other than that he didn't think about it too much. Graves was waiting for him. "Thanks, Droz."

"Of course, ping me when you're ready."

"Sure thing." Bish put the tablet under his arm and made his way over to Graves at the holo-board.

The deep frown on Marcus was a bad sign. Bish glanced at the holo-board first before saying anything. It was a tight view on Artemisium with an IMC super-carrier pulling into orbit. One carrier against their whole fleet wasn't going to make much of a difference.

"Boss," Bish tugged a smile.

Graves didn't even move. "A carrier arrived at Artemisium."

"I see that."

"It took them about two days to respond. That's very quick."

"But acceptable, right?" Bish reminded him.

"Yes," Graves acknowledged, "but factor in what happened at the Marshall System. These events might be coordinated."

"By who?"

Graves tapped the holo-board to pull out into the system wide view. "There's not a lot of coordination in the IMC on the command level. It would have to be _Regent._ "

The word was like a hushed whisper in a library. Regent. The Militia's code word for Spyglass. Exactly the one thing Bish knew Graves would say. Since his defection and since the failed battle at Columbia six months earlier, it had always been because Spyglass was there. The one robot no one had seen since the battle. It was a mystery, but one Bish was happy to leave alone until it caused problems.

 _It's not Spyglass!_ Bish wanted to slap his hands on the board and shout. Anderson, Mac, Sarah and Him had all ran operations with snags like this. The "I" in IMC meant interstellar for a reason. Bish leaned over and tapped the shipyard's location on the board and then the super-carrier. The name came up as _IMS Helix._ He looked up at Graves but he already knew his answer.

"Not one of the Remnant Fleet's is it?"

Graves narrowed his eyes, "It's not. I saw that already."

"So what's the connection then? Because I don't see Regent anywhere on this yet."

"It's there, it has to be." Graves sounded convinced but before Bish could speak, the Field Commander added, "So what does the Council think?"

"Ahh," Bish waved his hand dismissively, "they've _expressed great interest_ and their usual wishes for Harmony to become a Partner. I'll tell you something that they don't know yet. We've got Vanguards down in the Titan bay."

Graves' face cracked a small smile, almost enough to break the stress he was under. "That's really good news Commander."

"Yep. Emslie is already working on making a formalized design too but that's the only good news."

Graves shook his head.

"As you can imagine," Bish continued, "they want Kodai on the ground making jobs as soon as yesterday. Warren wants us to both hold on to Harmony and reclaim Victor for the Patronage, while not making anyone feel left out."

Marcus blew out a deep sigh. "They want it to grow it so fast. Real change doesn't happen over night, it has to grow. The First Fleet still hasn't recovered from Demeter or Columbia offensive. Once we control Freeport, that will be real change. A huge salient in IMC territory..."

Graves' focus trailed off as another ship appeared on the holo-board. Bish had never seen anything like it before. It looked like one of the tall towers from Angel City flying on it's side with more guns than a Birmingham class frigate. Whatever the hell it was, it looked vicious.

"What the hell is that?" He asked.

"It's not the Destroyer." Graves said more question than fact. "To the bridge – now. Captain Droz, get Sarah on the horn on the double!"

"Aye!" Droz had barely anytime to salute as Bish and Graves made for the lift to the bridge.

The sight of a new warship wasn't a good sign. Bish made a furtive glance at Graves as they went up the lift but Graves' focus was on the now upcoming battle. The Boatswain announced their arrival on the bridge and Graves grabbed the grips around the bridge's holo-board.

"I want our fleet to come about facing one-eight-nine and move out from the planet's orbit!" Graves began giving out orders. "Get the air squadrons into defensive rings around the fleet. Cease all supply runs immediately."

"How long ago did those ships enter orbit around Artemis?" Bish asked even as he moved to answer his own question. The light from Artemisium was about 4 hours old. Enough time to for those ships to move on if they were moving through. Bish didn't believe that was true for a second. "Both ships arrived about four hours ago, boss."

"As if we didn't have enough problems." Graves muttered. "Where are we on those fleet positions?"

"Still coming about FC!" The Comms-Officer relayed.

"If those ships don't move we'll still be stuck in orbit!" Graves gritted his teeth.

Bish was still watching the building like ship begin disembarking several Goblin dropships. Were they reinforcing the shipyard? He wasn't sure but Graves was treating this like a prelude to a full blown engagement. If it wasn't they'd be ready at least. Bish really respected Graves' quick reaction. Despite the urgency to get into a defensive formation, the frigates were moving as fast as they could to get into position with out issue. To Bish, it looked like they were all moving in slow motion.

Another ship came out of jump around the shipyard and then another. _Better get myself set up._ Bish went to pull out his laptop and realized it was Droz's tablet.

"FC, boss!" Bish called to Graves. "I'm getting my laptop!"

Graves nodded and turned back to the fleet. Bish hurried to the elevator and tapped his foot as the door closed. He muttered a flurry of _come on_ 's to himself as the lift made it's way back to the officer's deck. Half way down the hall, the sirens flashed on.

"Shit!" Bish cursed sharply as he slowed to a jog near his room.

He opened the door and grabbed the laptop off his desk and tossed the tablet onto his bed. Each moment he was expecting an explosion to rock the hull. It was pretty sure that couldn't happen as the _Annapolis_ was deep inside the fleet but not knowing didn't stop him from worrying.

Bish finally made it back to the lift and continuing smashing the bridge level button as the elevator crawled up the shaft back to the bridge. As soon as the doors started to open, Bish put a hand on one to try and push it faster. First thing he was look at the holo-board to see how many IMC ships had jumped in.

Graves barely glanced at Bish as he gripped the table. "If it wasn't an engagement before it is now. Three more ships dropped in. If their plan is to reinforce the shipyard, they have ample to do it with now. Ah, there, the _Trifid_ that's Commander Stupoff's boat."

"Like one big family reunion, huh?" Bish set up his laptop.

"More like overkill. Thats around five hundred Phantoms within the range of three hundred AOD guns. An attack now on the Shipyard would be difficult."

"We still outnumber them by a large margin."

"If – they attack us." Graves arched an eyebrow.

"So, what now?"

"We..." but Graves trailed off as his focus caught the board.

"Incoming transmission from Harmony. It's Commander Briggs, sir." the communications officer stated.

"Put it through to my quarters." Graves motioned his head for Bish to follow him.

From what Bish had heard from O'Connell, Graves' current quarters were a far cry from the posh quarters he had on the _Sentinel._ Yet if Graves had missed the luxurious accommodations, he never mentioned it. The simple one and half rooms were separated by a small wall that acted like a book case filled with a smattering of naval history and naval documents. For as long as Bish had known Graves, his knowledge of ancient and modern warfare was vast. In front of the bookcase was a couch that looked better than most Bish had seen. Past this in the main room was another holo-board, Graves' terminal, and a full-sized bed. Certainly better than the closet Bish called home.

Graves punched in a few keys on his terminal. "Commander Briggs, go ahead."

"FC, I'm joined by Noah Greene."

"Magistrate. I have Commander Lorck with me as well. Whats the status on the ground?"

"A little anxious, I think. What's going on upstairs?" Sarah asked.

"IMC reinforcements have arrived at Artemisium. A few carriers and supply ships."

"Will this be an issue Mr. Graves?" Magistrate Greene asked. His voice almost had a southern North American drawl to it, Bish thought.

"It won't be an issue of commitment if that's what you mean, Magistrate." Graves responded. "Commander Briggs, keep everything running as usual. Once, we have a hand on the situation, we'll restart the supply drops."

"With due respect sir, I can get these AODs up and running but we should go forward with the assault on the shipyard. The longer we wait, the more chance they'll have to shore up their defenses."

"I disagree with your Commander, Graves," Greene interjected, "I have Volunteers and Pilots leaving every day, either to join your ranks or go home. There's no certainty that we can mount an effective planet wide defense without your protection."

"If we take out the IMC, you won't have to." Sarah countered.

"You've only been here a few days, what message does it send if you run off for another target now?"

"Hey," Sarah said caught off guard.

"Furthermore," The Magistrate continued, "the Coalition supplies we need only come from your ships. There are still those who need aid and supplies. I believe you should choose the prudent course until such a time comes that Harmony is secured."

Bish observed Graves' face, it looked conflicted either from the current conversation or from future strategy he was plotting. Most times Graves took his time in plotting strategy, it was for that reason that Mac had kept up the constant pressure during the Demeter Blitz. Now they were facing something similar. With the political pressure and this new developing crisis growing faster than graves could react, Bish started to feel nervous. Could the same thing happen again? He'd always thought Mac was special with his insight but maybe Spyglass knew it too.

There was the other point that the Coalition wanted Harmony to join. Badly at that. _Pickering has expressed great interest in welcoming Harmony as a Partner._ Warren's words flashed in his mind. Bish knew he was no where close to the level Graves was on strategy but Mac and him knew how people thought. Deep down, Bish knew he'd still follow Mac to Demeter and back if he'd ask again. Slightly ashamed by his sudden realization, Bish felt he knew what the right answer was.

"Field Commander, considering the political situation, it might be best to hold a defensive position around Harmony. Coalition supplies should be coming in any day now from Concord. Like the Magistrate said, it would be the prudent course."

Graves looked amused at him for finally addressing him properly. The Field Commander then took a seat in his chair besides the terminal. He leaned his chin on his hands and hummed to himself thoughtfully. There was quiet over the terminal line as everyone awaited Graves to decide.

"Bish," Graves finally said, "can you hack into the AOD guns on Artemisium?"

"Yeah, I've done it before. Just get me a line of sight."

"Good. I want you to get those turrets on Harmony online in the meantime. Use whichever dish you need to do it. Sarah, I want you to keep everyone busy. Run patrols, train them how to shoot, put out fires anything. Magistrate, the system won't be secured until the IMC have been pushed out. However, I do understand your situation, therefore I will leave a fleet in reserve to act as a rearguard and deliver critical supplies only."

"If that's what you think is best, Field Commander." Noah Greene said politely but obviously dissatisfied.

"Yes, Magistrate. For now, I think the growing threat to Harmony from the Artemisium shipyard demands our attention."

"Sir," Sarah said, "we'll get it done."

"Good, out." Graves dropped the connection. He turned to Bish. "Have you heard of Churchill Commander?"

It'd been a while since Graves have given him a history lesson on Ancient warfare. "No, when did that battle take place?"

Graves chuckled, "He's a person, Mr. Lorck. During the Second World War, he was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. A very famous Brit where I come from."

Bish shrugged. He wasn't into ancient people.

"He's known for his defiance and brilliant speeches. But one thing he did often, and to great disaster, was interfere with his Generals. In particular, about invading Greece."

"If this is about what I said," Bish began but Graves put a hand up.

"No. What I'm trying to say is, when the war ended, the UK felt it didn't need him anymore and he was forced to resign. Despite every mistake he made, they didn't want him anymore but they still revered him."

"Graves, I gotta be honest, I don't see where you're going with this."

A sad smirk tugged on Graves' face, "I've been giving it a lot of thought. When this war's over, I want to resign. Leave without being forced to or worse not being able to. I've served in three major campaigns in my lifetime. This is the first one that I want to be remembered for."

"No one's going to argue with you there."

Marcus chuckled. "I hope not. It's not just me turning my back on the Core Systems as a political statement. I finally understand what Mac saw all those years ago. Just how invasive Hammond is. It's why I supported Pickering. The Frontier and the Core need to coexist peacefully free from influence."

Bish heaved a deep breath, "Tell ya what, after this campaign I'll get you a drink at Barker's?"

"I'd like to see that bastard again. How's his company doing?"

"They make good moonshine. I don't keep in touch with him much but I heard he sobered up."

"He didn't really drink much before the Base Golden Incident either." Graves' expression deepened and looked like he was in another time.

Barker without drinking was beyond what Bish had ever seen of MacAllan's old wingman. He wanted to ask about it but this wasn't the time or the place. "I'll set up in the CIC and get on those AODs downstairs."

"Good, back to work then Commander."

"Yeah, Boss." Bish replied.

A few minutes later, he'd set himself up in the CIC and began work on the AODs. Slaving one of the _Annapolis'_ dishes to broadcast his feed. Once he was inside the old IMC network, he pinged Sarah to help him gain direct access. They worked together finding an data-port for her knife to gain access.

"So what did you think?" Sarah asked.

"Of what?" Bish began typing in his code to reprioritize targets for the AOD's IFF on the entire Militia Fleet.

"Droz gave you the tablet didn't he?" She said a little offended.

"Oh sure," Bish said barely remembering he had tossed it onto his bed, "I haven't looked at it quite yet."

Sarah grunted as she pulled out the data-knife. "I know you got a lot on your plate Bish but there's a reason I had Droz give it to you only."

"Okay. So what is it?"

"Not over these channels but it's time sensitive and important. I need you to look at it and make a call. _Soon._ "

"Fine, it's in my quarters. I'll take a look at it when I get a chance."

"As soon as you can, Bish. I mean it."

"Okay, okay." Bish put a conciliatory hand out towards his terminal. There was some kind of itch in Sarah's voice. "Something on your mind, Sarah?"

"I guess there is." Though Sarah didn't say what.

Bish stopped typing and slumped back in his chair. Sarah and him were on the same page all the time, so if there was something bothering her it wasn't hard to guess what it was. "Look, I know I didn't back your play in there, it's just..." Bish suddenly found that he didn't have the words. _Sorry, there's a greater interest than yours I have to answer to now?_ That wasn't the kind of thing you said to your friend.

Sarah sighed, "It's that isn't it?" To Bish's surprise, she seemed relieved not sarcastic.

"Isn't it?"

"I mean, yeah a little but... would I sound old if I said, I kind of miss the good old days?"

"Which days were those?" Bish laughed.

Sarah snorted, "True." Then she sighed. "Nothing makes sense anymore. It used to be us versus them."

"It still is," Bish replied, "there's just a lot more of us and a lot more of them now."

"Hah! Okay, let's finish this gun up and move on to the next one."

"Absolutely."

It was nearly past midnight when he finished rewriting all the data in the guns. A message from Graves said there had been another three drops including the injured _Dumera_. Bish closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Maybe there was a Spyglass conspiracy. The robot had countered him nearly blow for blow during the fight for the skies above Demeter. If the _Dumera_ was a pawn of Spyglass then...

"Agh, no more theories. I'm done for the day." Bish announced to his empty room.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed the tablet on his bed. He'd promised Sarah but he was so tired, he almost didn't want to. Reluctantly, he did and regretted it. After the tablet unlocked, it showed a message from Paradox. The Militia's code name for I-25, a rogue IMC signal widely believed to be from Regent himself. Though no one had been able to identify it's source. Bish played it.

"...s is Jack Barn... Landstrom Ventures. The IMC... our planet and killed... of us. Jesus, uh, we need... I say again, we need help! Please! Our grid is seven..."

The message was patchy and garbled from solar interference. He played the message again and then read the notes Droz prepared for him. A Coalition research vessel, the CFRV Explorer II, intercepted it out in the Alcyoneus Belt and Captain Sho'ko phoned it in to Concord Naval Command. What really grabbed his attention was that Droz traced the line in red where two other I-25 encrypted signals had been seen before.

"Holy shit," Bish found himself repeating it over and over. They might have actually found Spyglass or even the _Tyranis_. Bish stopped, _Oh shit. We might have found Spyglass or the Tyranis!_ The words taking on a different meaning now. Would Graves be content to stick it out around Harmony knowing that they might find Spyglass? Odds were he wouldn't, but Bish didn't want to bet on them. Bish had never imagined they'd find Spyglass like this.

Sarah wasn't on a secured line, so Bish had to call up the next person, "Droz, I need you to come to my quarters right now. It's about that tablet."


	16. Chapter 14 - Lena

_Hi all! I was worried that this chapter might be a little late but things seemed to work out for me. Hopefully, you've all been enjoying the story so far. As always, I enjoy all the views, reviews, favs, follows, and so on. So if there's anything you'd like to ask me, feel free to PM me and I'll answer it as best I can. I'm sure I don't say this all the time but I do really appreciate it._

* * *

"Scorched Earth"

Freeport System

Harmony

2698, November 23rd

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For the better part of the day, Lena had poached for a good quiet spot away from the noise of Nexus. She found a clearing with a mixture of birch and cherry trees. With the arrival of the Militia, dropships of a different color had been been flying in day and night. Not only that but she had become popular locally after defending the Forward Base. She had gotten barraged by people looking to tell her their thanks or hear the story for themselves, even some flirting. So, when the order finally came for the new Pilots to start running patrols, Lena jumped at the chance. Strapping her sleeping bag, rations, blankets, and other supplies; she set out to patrol the fields and hills around Nexus.

Lena popped the hatch and peeked out from inside her Titan. The clearing looked nice. Blossoms fell lazily in the setting sunlight. As she took her other foot out of the cockpit to jump, Kilo brought a hand forward for her to step on. She paused for a moment then took in a deep breath and stepped out onto it's awaiting hand. Surprisingly, Kilo was very gentle with bringing her down to the ground.

She stepped off and looked back at it's orb, "Thanks."

Kilo just slid the Thermite Launcher onto it's back and stood there watching her. Lena began to look about the clearing seeing if it was somewhere she wanted to spend the night. Up one side of the clearing she found a good shaded spot for camping. For years under IMC occupation, fires weren't permitted as they could be picked up easily by thermal scans or by spotters. Lena decided she deserved the comfort and looked for some suitable sticks. When that wasn't easily found, she worked on bringing down a sapling with her new knife.

It was just about dark when she finished setting up her logs for a fire. She found her way over to Kilo by following the blue LEDs on it's armor. Kilo knelt down for her so she could rustle through her backpack for the fire starting kit. With the sun set, it was too dark to see where she had put the kit. Probably should have placed it somewhere she could find it.

"Hey Titan." She said to Kilo.

"My designation is Kilo Sierra X-Ray Six Eight Four Three." It responded.

"Right," She said, the back of her neck warm. "can you light these logs with your thermal shield or something?"

"Affirmative. My Thermal Shield can ignite foliage."

"Great. I need you to set this bundle of logs on fire."

"Confirmed." Kilo responded and lit up their Thermal Shield.

Low hanging branches were singed and petals turned to ash as Kilo mechanically lowered his Thermal Shield onto the logs. Before Lena could stop Kilo from going too far, the logs were reduced to charcoal.

"Stop! Stop!" She cried too late as Kilo turned off the Thermal Shield. Little flickers of flame danced on the tree branches and the logs fell apart. Smoke smoldered from around where her campfire was supposed to be.

"Objective destroyed." Kilo announced.

Lena's shoulders slumped. "Of all the things – what were you trying to do? Set the whole forest on fire?"

"Negative. Pilot set the target to the grouping of logs. Objective was destroyed."

Lena clenched her teeth, "You weren't supposed to destroy it! You were supposed to ignite it!"

"The target is ignited." Kilo stated helpfully.

Lena gave up and just used her knife to poke the remaining pieces of the logs together. She sat next to it, leaning an elbow on her knee as she watched the small burnt remains slowly burn themselves out. What good was a fire Titan if it couldn't make a basic fire? Lena shook her head.

Eventually, she unfastened her sleeping bag and laid it out next to the smoldering campsite. It smelled bad and yet it was still sort of comforting. The branches above her swayed in the gentle breeze; one by one snuffing the little flames like candles. Lena watched the stars through the treetops as the breeze blew through the blossoms. She took off her jacket and made it into a pillow.

Lena rolled over on her side, adjusting her arms to comfort her neck. It wasn't very comfortable but she was warmer now at least. She fell into a sort of semi-sleep. The ground was still too hard and the smell of smoke irritated her nose. Still, she tried to make the best of it. Lena rolled away from the fire and then rolled onto her back. She opened her eyes again and looked back up at the stars. Softly, Kilo's servos whirred reminding her it was still there.

She rolled over to face Kilo. It's orb was still tracking her, silently awaiting orders. The smaller orb atop the cockpit, swiveled upward as if tracking the stars. Lena frowned and tried to make her jacket more comfy and returned her gaze back to the stars.

Somewhere up there was the Militia and their ships. Lena tried to spot them but each bright dot looked like the next. Kilo, however, seemed to have no trouble at all. It's small orb was now rapidly flitting between multiple points in the sky. She almost wanted to ask what had caught it's eye but decided not to.

Eventually, she fell asleep though couldn't remember how. Her whole body was sore. Lena stretched until her back popped and then rubbed her aching neck. Lena slipped on her jacket, got up and stamped the cinders. Then she rolled up her sleeping bag and strapped it back onto Kilo. The air was still. Maybe the Militia didn't do their air lifts in the early morning? Lena didn't know. She ordered Kilo to lower and she climbed into the cockpit. Compared to the ground, the cockpit was softer and the cabin inside was warmed by the heat of Kilo's chemical mixtures.

She pulled out her map and looked where the next marker was. It was an old Pathfinder camp near the top of a local mountain called Broadbaker Knob. About 15 klicks from where she was now. It was still nighttime now, no need to rush off to the next point. The wide open cockpit of Kilo's was spacious for someone as short as she was. She slouched in the seat and nodded off.

"Rabbit Ten, this is Nest, do you read?" Pullman's voice crackled over the radio.

Lena awoke from her sleep dazed and confused. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as Pullman continued to ask her to call in. Her back was still sore and her neck ached but sleeping in the Titan was a much better choice.

"Good ahead, Nest..." Lena clamped down on a yawn.

"Finally! Lena, it looks like the Militia's main fleet is moving out. The Magistrate wants all Titans back at base pronto."

"They're leaving?" She tried to process why but her mind was still waking up.

"Most of them but they left their reserves behind." Pullman answered. "Now get back here, Rabbit Ten."

"Right, yeah, okay." Lena wheeled Kilo around to head back to the forward base.

The sun finally rose above the trees. A shooting star passed over head. It was beautiful in it's serene quality as it slowly traced the horizon. Something was odd about this star though, it was moving much slower than it should. Then another shooting star slowly waded through the early morning sky. Followed by another and another. They weren't shooting stars after all but something else. A meteor shower? Lena panned Kilo's camera upwards and saw flashes in the sky like fireworks.

It was the Militia Fleet.

"Rabbit Ten, Lena, where are you?" Pullman's voice full of panic.

"I'm still headed back. What's going on?"

"Oh my god." Pullman said cryptically and not speaking for a moment. Then added, "Hurry."

"Come on Titan, we gotta go! We gotta go now!"

Kilo resumed his lumbering jog as the Scorch's chassis pushed aside smaller trees and bushes with ease. Above her, Lena watched as the macabre meteor shower continued raining overhead. Her Titan's slow pace was frustrating as details about the battle fell from the sky. The shooting stars were drop pods scattering all over the plains and hills of Nexus. A Militia dropship broke atmo before being cleaved in two.

Off in the distance, one of the three remaining AOD guns fired up towards the morning sky with a bright red lance. Slowly, through the clouds a shape of a ship took form. Breaking the silence of the burning skies like a coming storm. Just looking at it, Lena knew it was the IMC. The way it dominated the sky with it's oppressive profile was their typical sign of power. And with a show of force, the ship returned the AOD gun's cannon fire with thick tracer rounds. Each explosion sending smoke spiraling into the air.

A thick black cloud was now forming around Nexus as the AOD gun detonated from the withering onslaught. The sound of the explosion was like a tidal wave washing over the trees. Lena winced as the noise rattled Kilo's hull. Another red lance pierced the black sky towards the heavens. She prayed that this would destroy that IMC ship. Showing the IMC they were stronger now; capable of defending their planet.

More rounds from the heavens struck around Nexus sending more smoke into the sky. Then all at once, the IMC guns saturating the fields around Nexus in hail of fire. The roar of the orbital bombardment was deafening even inside Kilo. It's unrelenting fury enough to halt Lena in her tracks and clamp her hands around her ears. A bright flash of fire from under the smoke, signaled that one of the AOD guns had detonated.

Yet beyond what Lena had expected, a third lance fired up into the sky towards the source of the bombardment. The sky lit up briefly, a hit. More shooting stars of debris rained over Nexus before a fourth wave of fire pummeled the last working AOD gun they had. Another bright plume billowed into the air, loud and hot. The dawn now brightly accented by the blaze.

Her breath caught in her throat, Lena was unable to move, her body frozen in place. Lena's body shook with rage and despair. She gritted her teeth and snarled up towards the triumphant IMC as they loomed over head. Moments later, another barrage towards Cherry Knob. An explosion followed by a deeply haunting sound of twisting metal as the beacon's dish broke free and crashed to the earth. Then it was still, quiet save for the raging inferno around Nexus.

"Magistrate!" She gasped.

Lena awoke from her shock and again threw Kilo into motion as fast as it could. It took her another 20 minutes to arrive at the ruined grey landscape of Nexus. The IMC had taken half that time to wreak unimaginable havoc. Lena cautiously moved through the smoke searching out survivors or unexploded debris. Trying to navigate her way to the Forward Base amid the falling debris was something out of the apocalypse.

When there was a break in the smoke, Lena could see that the fires were raging around where the AOD guns had been and thick cloud of dust clung around the peak of Cherry Knob. So far, the Forward Base looked to be untouched as did the Nexus. Lena nearly wept from the relief. Slowly, she descended a hill from the forrest towards the base.

She spotted a drop pod that was intact as she turned a bend. It heat marks from where it had collided with debris in the atmosphere. The person inside was clutching their head as wobbled back and forth walking in circles.

"Hey! You alright?" Lena called.

The Militia survivor jumped a foot in the air before falling against the pod. As she came forward, the survivor fell against the ground. Quickly, Lena opened the hatch barely waiting for Kilo to offer his hand as a platform to jump from. She landed and ran over to the Militiaman. He physically looked okay and Lena sat him upright against the drop pod.

Just then, another survivor broke the bushes and stumbled out. Lena got up and braced the woman by her shoulders. She had a cut on her forward along her hairline that trailed over one of her eyes.

"Johan..." She said weakly and reached out towards the man against the drop pod.

"Easy, easy. I got you." Lena helped the woman over to pod.

Slowly, she rested the woman next to Johan and crouched down in front of her checking her over for other injuries. As Lena checked her over, the militia sailor just stared at Johan shaking her head. She was okay and so Lena gently directed the woman to look at her.

"What happened?" Lena asked.

"I-I don't know... my ears." The sailor stared off into space.

"Can you walk?" Lena tried to get the woman to concentrate.

She didn't answer and so Lena stood back up to look anyone else was in the area. Her search turned up the other drop pod. The pod had smashed into a tree, flipping the unit onto it's back. The woman was lucky the pod hadn't ended up face down instead.

When she returned to the pair, the woman looked to have recovered a little more and was weakly trying to pull something out of the pod. A bout of dizziness hit her and she looked like she was going to fall but caught herself on the lip of the lifeboat. She was mumbling a word that Lena didn't understand.

"Sansu...Sansufentanyl..." She said as her head wobbled.

Lena grasped the woman's shoulder, "What do you need? Tell me how I can help."

The woman weakly pointed towards the opening of the drop pod. Lena went over to the drop pod, checking the interior. The woman made a stabbing motion on her arm before she rested her head against the pod. Lena scrunched her face and looked through the lifeboat for something that stabbed.

Inside wasn't much to look at. The chair in the center had a couple of small touch screen monitors by the finger tips on the arm rests. There was a pull-release just under the seat too but other than that the escape pod looked simple and clean. No cutting or stabbing tool, she could see.

Next, Lena crouched inside and took a seat. She pressed a few buttons on the monitor and brought up a menu. The readout was small but bright and easy to see. She selected the "ADMINISTER" option and saw one of the options was Sansufentanyl.

"Gotcha," she said aloud and climbed back out of the pod.

Lena pulled the man, Johan, over her shoulder. The woman groaned weakly and tried to hold onto Johan's foot. Lena gently pulled his boot free from her grasp. At the front of the pod, she wasn't sure how to get Johan inside without bumping his head, so she tried to bump it as little as possible. Somehow she got him in by sliding his body up the chair into a sitting position and then pressed the administer option. There was an audible sound as the drug administered into Johan. The next second his eyes were wide awake and he made a loud gasp.

"Hey! Can you hear me?" Lena asked him.

Johan seemed to notice her then and recoiled.

"You're okay, you're okay! Can you tell me what happened?" She asked trying to sound calm, while being way out of her element.

Johan took deep breathes before nodding. "Where am I?"

"You're on Harmony. I'm Lena. Johan, can you tell me what happened?"

"The IMC ambushed us. They – they timed it perfectly. I don't know how. B-but how do you know my name?"

"Your friend over there." Lena stepped back as Johan quickly scrambled out of the pod.

Johan quickly stumbled over by the woman and held her face. He swore, got up, and reached behind the lifeboat's seat and grabbed a bag. Johan pulled out a medical device and began working on the woman.

"It's no good. Diana needs better attention than this."

"There's nothing more I can do. Maybe they can help you in Nexus?"

Lena walked back towards Kilo and nodded to it to let her up. She stepped onto Kilo's hand as it lifted her up. Just as she was about to enter the cockpit, Johan called up to her.

"Hey! Where's this Nexus?"

Lena tilted her head over her shoulder and nodded towards the flames. "That way."

"Systems online, controls transferred to Pilot." The OS chimed as she closed Kilo's hatch.

Lena put Kilo in gear, continuing down the hill, leaving Johan and Lindzee to make their own way. She did her best to put out small fires out with Kilo's giant feet. Small fires from the impact of debris were all over the already scared fields of Nexus. As she neared the defensive wall, crews were already out with shovels and other tools to try and contain the local fires.

In particular, there was a woman with short black hair and a red bandana directing volunteers around the area. Behind her was Pullman's Atlas pointing out each direction, the red bandana woman ordered. Pullman quickly motioned her over after the crowd took off running.

"I came as fast as I could." Lena spoke as soon as she was in range.

"Good," Pullman said, "Sarah where can we use her?"

Sarah, the woman with the red bandana, took in a deep breath and pulled up a datapad. "I need you to create a fire break with that Scorch. Can you do that?"

"Uh, how? Ma'am." Lena asked.

Sarah pointed to the east to a fire around one of the AOD guns. "Create a controlled burn in front of the blaze or make a break in the field to stop the spread."

"Okay," Lena nodded and in response Kilo balled a fist with his left hand.

She didn't know what that meant but Sarah seemed to understand and nodded appreciatively to Kilo. "Move out, Pilot."

Lena got chills. The way Sarah said Pilot felt like the way real soldiers did. Excited, nervous, afraid, Lena wheeled Kilo east towards the oncoming fire approaching the Forward Base. She stopped in a field a distance away.

"Titan, do you know anything about containing fires?"

"Analyzing." Kilo's OS replied.

Suddenly, yellow zones appeared to overlay several fields with texts recommending where to fire the Thermite Launcher. Kilo reached over it's "head" and pulled out the Thermite Launcher.

"You sure this'll work?"

"Probability of containing the inferno is eighty-point-two percent. Wind is blowing eastward at 3 knots. Situation may change. Stay alert."

"Oh," Lena said a little overwhelmed by how informative Kilo was being.

She took control of the launcher and aimed it towards the first indicated area. A parabolic arc appeared on screen showing her the trajectory of the thermite. Lena pulled the trigger on the levers and a dull click sounded as the thermite splashed over the spot.

The field lit and began to burn. Lena moved onto the next spot and fired another round of thermite. She repeated this three more times before enough of the field was sufficiently burned. Kilo tossed the empty thermite shell from the breach and loaded a new one.

"Further analysis indicates that the blaze still has the potential to jump our created fire break. Recommend removing the wooden fences from the zone." Kilo reported.

One by one, she maneuvered Kilo's hands to rip up the fence posts and tossed them behind her. As the process went by, Lena got faster and faster at tossing aside the wooden posts. In the back of her mind, she hoped she hadn't hit anyone. Minutes later they'd cover the length of the field. Lena looked out over the coming blaze and grimaced. The blaze was still coming strong.

"Hey, I don't think this is working." Lena asked.

The break was complete but the blaze kept coming from the destroyed cannon was still just as high. If they did nothing, the fire could keep spreading.

"Full rupture of flammable materials has not yet occurred. Hypothesis, using a high explosive material may stop the flame at it's source."

"Like a bomb?"

"Yes," Kilo answered simply.

"Okay, sounds stupid to me, but sure, I'll trust the Titan." Lena quickly pulled off her jacket and dropped it against her feet. "Pullman, my Titan's recommending we detonate a bomb at the AOD gun to stop the flames."

"That could work," Jenna mulled it over for a moment, "but we don't have anything big enough."

"Actually," Sarah said suddenly, "what about a Quad Rocket?"

"Yes, a Quad Rocket would yield enough explosive mass." Kilo agreed.

Lena frowned, "Where would I get one?"

"Just wait a minute, I'll get one!" Pullman yelled.

The flames slowly crept forward towards the fire break as Pullman went retrieved their bomb. For now, content with flickering against the walls of dirt she had created. The bubble of safety their victory and the arrival of Militia had created was burning around them. There was no way to know what was going on up there in the sky. All she could do was keep putting out fires.

Pullman's Atlas arrived next to handing off the Quad Rocket to Kilo. Her Titan stowed it's weapon and took the offered one. Pullman moved to look over the flames towards the AOD gun.

"How will you get there?" Pullman asked.

"Um, walk I guess." Lena shrugged from insider her cockpit and to her surprise, Kilo flipped a hand to demonstrate a shrug.

"The tempered plating on the hull will protect us from all but the most severe flames." The OS informed her.

Pullman's Titan leaned back on one leg and Lena could hear Pullman chuckle. Almost like Pullman was her Titan taking her in. The orb on the center of the cockpit of the Atlas traced Kilo up and down. There was a real bond between Pullman and her Titan. A type of mastery that she was only now beginning to see between her and Kilo.

"Well," Pullman said, "Scorches are meant for high heat so you should be okay. Just don't let the rockets cook."

"Right. Thanks." Lena held the Quad Rocket aloft.

"Good luck, Master-Pilot."

Lena grinned to herself and wheeled Kilo about and began walking through the low blaze. Kilo's OS stated they had entered a hazardous area and recommended she not exit the Titan. Readouts that appeared to her right indicated that only superfluous damage was being done to the feet of the Titan. It looked like Kilo was rated to traverse flames as Pullman thought.

When they arrived, Lena surveyed the burning remnants of the cannon. The bombardment had struck center at the joint leaving the barrel of the gun against the ground. Kilo's sensors scanned through the wreckage looking for the best place to quench the flames. It's scans settled on a spot just inside the hole created by the bombardment.

"This point would be the best place to place the Quad Rocket." Kilo's OS stated. The Titan created a waypoint on her screen indicating exactly where it should be placed.

Lena braced one arm against the wall of the AOD and poked her Scorch inside inspecting the area. Fire was raging all about the inside with the waypoint smack in the middle. As far as what Kilo wanted, it looked like just dropping the launcher inside and running away. Simple enough.

She pulled her Titan's chassis through the opening and towards the waypoint inside. A chime went off warning her that the temperatures inside the AOD were way beyond safe levels and doing minor damage to Kilo's entire hull.

"What now? Just leave it here to cook?"

"Yes." Kilo answered.

Lena placed the launcher barrel down so that it would stay level and then returned through the opening. As soon as she was out, Lena put Kilo into a jog. Her fire break was now being manned by some Volunteers throwing dirt or fire suppressing material onto the flames. A cacophony of roars rumbled from behind her as the twenty rockets detonated from the intense heat. Lena turned to see the rising smoke from the AOD gun. The base of the cannon was pushed apart into a "V" by the explosion while dirt was kicked up around the gun dousing the flames. Smoke and ash wafted towards them from the force of the explosion.

"Good work Pilot," Sarah said over the radio, "let's get those flames snuffed and move on to the next spot."

"Right," Lena replied.

It took them hours to get all the fires under control and the scene around Nexus was still a charred and ash landscape. In a turn of luck, the trenches the IMC had dug around Nexus had acted as good fire breaks preventing the city from being touched by the fires that surrounded it.

Lena popped the hatch near one of the relief stations where they were handing out soup and water. Outside the cockpit smelled of smoke as small particles of ash swirled in the air. She accepted one of the bowls and Kilo carefully trailed behind her. The man's face went agape as soon as he recognized her. _Not again._

"You're hero of Nexus!" He cried.

Lena groaned. "They were a lot of heroes that day I'm not the only one."

"True but you're the one who burned them out when they tried to kill the Magistrate!"

The people behind her in the line started chatting amongst themselves. Recounting the rumors and stories they'd heard about her. Some even pointed at Kilo and at the names poorly etched onto his chassis.

"Listen, Master-Pilot Pullman was there too." Lena tried to distract him. "Give her your thanks too."

"Oh, I have. All of you Pilots are a god send for us. Here have a little extra. For putting out all those fires."

"Hear, hear!" Someone in the crowd spoke and it was echoed by a few more.

Lena blushed and nervously chuckled. "T-thanks. I was just doing what the Magistrate asked of me." She nodded to Kilo and left.

"Praise be to Harmony for Pilots like her and leaders like the Magistrate." A woman said while she walked away from the crowd. A few chants of "For Harmony" were raised in response.

Lena picked a series of empty crates to sit on away from the rest. She was still wary about others trying to treat her like a hero. All she had done was her duty to Harmony, wouldn't anyone have done the same? Maybe not but Pullman and anyone today deserved just as much respect too.

The warm tomato garlic soup was too hot for her hands but it smelled delicious. Tired and starved, she greedily put a spoonful into her mouth. Hot soup burned her tongue and she swallowed it before she thought better of it. She felt the hot food trail down her throat towards her stomach.

Kilo whirred and adjusted it's stance and Lena looked up to see Pullman and Sarah walking towards her. Lena settled her bowl on the crate next to her and stood up with a nod. Sarah returned the nod.

"Don't get up. With the work you did today, you've earned some rest."

Lena sat back down and picked up her soup. Sarah looked up at Kilo and then observed the names scratched on his chassis. His feet were covered in soot and ash and the flames had darkened his legs black up to his torso. Her belongings that she had strapped onto his hull had mostly burned away and would have to be replaced but Lena was sure her few things could be replaced. Sarah traced a finger along Thomas' name on Kilo's arm and then rubbed the soot between her fingers. Lena spooned another hot bite into her mouth.

"Pullman tells me you've defended the Forward Base before."

Lena swallowed another hot bite and cleared her throat, "That's right."

Pullman eyed her harshly as if she wasn't responding properly. Sarah didn't seem to notice. "Tell me about Uji Horata."

"Why?" Lena asked genuinely curious.

"Well, for starters, he seems to think you and this Titan here don't get a long, but from what I've seen, you two work well together."

Lena shook her head, "Thanks."

"You don't agree?" Sarah probed.

"It's not that," Lena waffled as she pulled her face, "Uji and his Vanguards were the best Pilots we had. I'm no Pilot compared to them. I'm just trying to protect Harmony, however I can."

It was mostly true but telling Sarah about the names on Kilo's chassis and why they were there, felt too personal to reveal. The image of Yants and Zandy smoldering on the ground came to mind. Lena had a wave of nauseousness.

Pullman came up to her and braced her on the shoulders. "You okay Patriot?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Shrugging off Jenna's hands from her shoulder to collect up her soup.

"Those names..." Sarah brushed off the soot from Zandy's name. Sarah seemed to understand what the names on Kilo meant. "I'm sorry."

"We all lost someone that day. Some more than most." Pullman answered.

"I know," Sarah said with remarkable depth that Lena believed her. The Commander turned towards Lena. "If your Titan could do a lot of good, not just for Harmony, but for the Frontier. Would you do it?"

She tried to remember what Uji had told her before about what they could learn from the Militia but she couldn't. Deep down, Lena knew that saving the city of Nexus outweighed the deaths of the her crew that died trying to take it. That if handing over Kilo to the Militia could save more lives, why wouldn't she? And yet, she felt that giving up on Kilo was giving up her revenge. In her heart, she wasn't sure if she wanted to give up on that yet.

"Think on it." Pullman said. "We're not going anywhere. Are we?"

Sarah had look on her face that said _you're not wrong._ "There's still fires to put out and we need to get comms back with the fleet. Once we're there we'll decide."

Lena nodded. "Understood."

"Alright Pullman, she's all yours." Sarah turned and walked back towards the relief station.

"Thank you kindly, Ma'am." Pullman said then turned back to Lena. "Water's something we're in big need of but after all this done. How about we clean him up and really make these names permanent?"

Pullman played with the scratched on names that were obscured by the flames that Kilo had been in. Lena finished her soup and finally set the plastic bowl aside. A month had passed and already the faces of her crew were fading from her memory. Their names etched onto Kilo's frame in poor remembrance.

"I think that's a good idea, Master-Pilot."

"Jenna's fine." Pullman said.

Lena hesitated, unused to being asked to call her superiors by their first name. "Okay then – Jenna."

Jenna grinned. "Get some rest while you can, there's still more work to be done."

Lena shook Jenna's hand and then nodded up towards Kilo. The Titan opened it's hatch and reached out with it's hand for her to grab on to. She grabbed onto to the Titan's hand and it pulled her up to the cockpit. Lena settled into the cockpit, relishing the warm, clean smelling air with no one to bother her.

* * *

 _For those of you who saw the reference, the song came out while I was working on the last chapter and I wanted to include it in a sneaky way for fun. :)_


	17. Chapter 15 - Igor

_Sorry for the late posting, my whole life has gotten hectic since mid-June and July has been the worst. Regardless, writing still helps me relax and my thoughts (even when not writing) were how to craft and push this story forward. This chapter might be a tad shorter than I'd personally expect of myself but I felt keeping the story alive was more important. As always, I love hearing from you guys. Please let me know if something's confusing, not clear, etc. I'm always happy to chat._

* * *

"Chasing Paradox"

Concord System

MCS Paul Revere

2698, November 28th

* * *

Three exercises had come and gone since Igor had relieved Graff of his position as main gunner. His replacement, a man called Tyrnbolt, was not nearly as experienced but was capable. Which in Coalition circles was nearly as good. Lansford had reprimanded Igor harshly for letting Graff go. That Vabrinski was furthering divisions instead of fostering camaraderie. In the future, he was to take no further actions that would endanger the cooperation of the 2nd Fleet and the Concord Squadron.

It was a shock for Igor to hear Lansford berate him that way, enough to break the lull that Sho'ko's command had been and the friendliness of Lansford's guidance. If the calm and collected Lansford was this on edge then tensions must be really running high.

Igor finished his shave and noted that black bags were forming underneath his eyes. Part of his day was planned to make inspections around the ship, get to know the crew better. Fairwyn had listed a few areas that could spell trouble. She and her MARDET action groups were running drills. Of all the sections, they were the smoothest and they weren't even under his command.

He stopped by the officer's mess on the way up to the bridge. This early in the day there were some stop overs from the night shift. Igor collected a cup and poured burnt coffee into it, returning a few salutes with a quiet nod. Tipping in a generous amount of sugar and dehydrated creamer at least mildly improved the taste. It was like drinking day old reheated French Roast, which probably wasn't too far from the truth. Sipping it, made Igor long for a cup of flavorful tea in Peter's kitchen.

Korojima stopped by his table and asked permission to sit.

"Sure," he said and put down his tablet with the daily reports compiled from the previous shift.

"Sir, I'll understand if you want to replace me as well. I know these last few drills haven't been stellar."

Igor shook his head. "Ensign, as long as you continue to try and work with ex-IMC sailors, you've got nothing to worry about. We didn't take out Demeter in a day. That was years of effort and a week of good luck."

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll keep working at it." Korojima saluted and left the table.

He watched her leave and Igor wondered what he could do next to help bolster morale. Better recruits would be nice. Better still if the good ones they had now from the IMC weren't so mistrusted. No one raised a hand when James MacAllan took charge. Then again, having no other options had taken the choice out of it.

Oran was already waiting for him when he arrived at the bridge. The Lieutenant was consulting with a Liaison when the boatswain announced his presence.

"At ease," Igor said comfortably despite his continuing unease.

"Captain," Oran said with urgency in his voice as he approached him, "looks like something's up."

"That's a surprise." Igor said amused.

"Word is the Second might be leaving the system."

Igor chuckled. There was no way the Second Fleet could leave the system in it's present state. The exercises so far had proven to him that the Second and Concord Squadron were only fit for wasting fuel.

"Where's this intel coming from?" Vabrinski asked.

"Couple of coals tried to jump ship. They said there's going to be a battle in Freeport."

Igor tried not to frown. That little detail had been absent from Fairwyn's report. If Coalition recruits thought they were leaving Concord and tried to leave their comfy posts, they'd be QSF'ed in actual combat.

"How did you hear about this?" Igor asked him.

Oran gave a conspiratorial look around before he spoke. "Because I ran into them Captain."

"Did you report this, Lieutenant?"

Lance's face tightened. "No, sir."

"I don't need to remind you of the penalties for attempting desertion." How could Oran just disregard the fact that those sailors tried to leave their posts?

"Of course not, sir, because I convinced them not to leave them."

Igor studied Oran's face. "You convinced them?"

"Yes, sir. By reminding them that the Coalition and Militia exercises haven't shown considerable battle readiness. The post isn't in jeopardy just yet."

Vabrinski just nodded that he understood. Lance had used the weakness of the 2nd Fleet to convince them. That wasn't exactly an ideal argument. "So, what happens when we are battle ready, Lieutenant?"

Oran shrugged, "I don't know, sir."

"Captain," the Comms-officer interrupted, "incoming priority transmission from the _Wolcott._ "

 _Lansford._ Igor thought. "Let's put a pin in this conversation for now Oran and pick this up later."

"Yes, sir." Lance saluted.

Igor accepted the receiver from the Comm-O. " _Revere_ here, go ahead _Wolcott_."

"Captain Vabrinski," Lansford's voice was unsually tense, "go to encrypt."

"Comms, patch this into my quarters." Igor handed off the receiver to the Comm-O. A minute later, he was inside his quarters picking up the transmission. "We're secure, sir."

"Captain, I may have an assignment that you would be well suited for you. But any mention of this assignment would be top level classified."

"Meaning, sir?"

"Breathing a word of it would compel you to volunteer for the assignment."

Igor thought of Peter. Lansford was giving him a choice after all, he could say no. Yet Igor found himself feeling like he would let his mentor down by declining his preferential offer. "I guess I volunteer, sir."

"Good man, Vabrinski. Standby for video." The line clicked as the feed was rerouted to his terminal.

Igor hung up the receiver and sat down at his desk. The photo of Peter by the lakeside on Concord was reflecting the light in his face. Igor shifted the lamp away as the video call connection came through.

Lansford looked older, still as ever like the sea salt captains of old but the wrinkles had multiplied around his eyes. His dark gray hair was turning white. Still his dark brown eyes held some youth in them as he stared back at him.

"It's good to see you again, Igor."

"Thank you, sir."

"How's Peter?"

Igor smiled despite the seriousness of the call. "My husband's – adjusting."

"Give him time. A sailor needs a port to call home."

"Yes sir."

Lansford looked at something off screen and nodded. "Igor, the last twenty-four hours have reset some battle lines on the Frontier. The First Fleet has begun a siege of Artemisium with keeping it permanently this time." Igor was about to say that was a good thing when Lansford continued talking. "However, an unknown IMC Naval Element has destroyed our rearguard around Harmony. Due to the escalating situation in the Freeport System, Field Commander Graves is using his martial power to pull the Second from Concord. We're going into the shit, son."

"Understood, sir."

"But you're not going to."

"Sir?" Igor frowned.

"I'll let Commander Lorck explain."

The screen changed and Bish appeared. Igor had met him once before back on the _Annapolis_ after the _Montana_ was used as a diversionary tactic against the AOD guns on Artemisium. To Igor, Bish still looked the same.

"Captain," Bish acknowledged him.

"Commander."

"I'll get straight to the point, several hours ago we received a report from a Coalition vessel that they had intercepted a radio broadcast in the Alcyoneus Belt."

 _Hm, Aubrey's in that belt. I wonder if she caught anything._ Igor thought to himself.

Bish continued, "The vessel, _Explorer II_ was conducting a astrogeological survey of the belt when they caught this transmission."

Bish's screen cut to sound clip display. " _...s is Jack Barn... Landstrom Ventures. The IMC... our planet and killed... of us. Jesus, uh, we need... I say again, we need help! Please! Our grid is seven..._ "

Igor's breath caught. Aubrey must not have thought much of the broadcast if she passed it on. After the _Montana_ was destroyed and her departure with the Militia after Demeter, the last thing she'd want was to see more Militia ships. _Maybe she's at Custer-by-the-belt taking leave and a different Captain called it in?_ Igor hoped. Sho'ko left on bad terms with the Militia and wanted to return to the quieter life of science. He understood now why Lansford had called him but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You ok, Captain?" Bish asked as he returned on the screen.

"Sorry, sir. Please continue."

"Right, okay, so we have evidence to suspect that the broadcast came from a source called I-25, codenamed Paradox. As far as chances go, this has been our best to confirm who's behind the I-25 signal. It's suspected to be either Sovereign himself or the _IMS Tyranis_."

"Soverign, sir?" Igor was familiar with that name.

"Intel codeword for Spyglass." Bish supplied.

 _Jesus, Aubrey. What have you gotten yourself into?_ Igor tried to control himself. "Sir, what is Landstrom Ventures?"

"Nothing. There doesn't appear to be major record of the company other than it existed on the Frontier about ten years ago when it passed through the Demeter gate. After that, it looks like all records of it were wiped."

"Pardon me sir, but couldn't this be a trap by the IMC or the Remnant Fleet?"

Bish shook his head, "It doesn't fit the IMC model with their current tactics and no one's seen the Remnant Fleet since the Battle of Columbia. I doubt they still have access to any of the databanks. Still, even if they do, Captain, two ships will hardly be worth it."

Igor's mouth twitched. It was a quick movement but Bish caught it and frowned. Igor silently chastised himself for the slip up. What was he? Fresh out of the gate? They weren't pirates anymore, Graves had made them legitimate sailors. He knew better than to question his superior.

"Yes, Captain?" Bish said in a friendly tone.

"Nothing, sir." Igor swallowed.

"Look, I know this op is risky." Commander Lorck admitted. "And the war games haven't been going as well either. Let me level with you Captain. Finding either will bring an end to this war faster. We smash whatever the IMC are working on or find and eliminate their Commander in Chief."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Graves is commanding the Second to help secure the Artemisium Shipyards in Operation Harmony's Hope. However, you and the _Huntsman_ will both _suffer_ filter failures and proceed to Custer-by-the-belt for replacements. An en route Mercenary team by the code name 'Bandit' will arrive at oh-nine-hundred and will act as the SRS proxy on this operation. Their Squad Leader, Sargent Ramirez will report directly to you. The code name for this operation is 'Blind Eye' and will be a black op. Once you reach Custer-by-the-belt, you will maintain radio silence until you make contact with the CFRV Explorer II. The main goal of this operation is to locate and identify the location of the signal and then report Concord Naval HQ."

"Aye aye Commander Lorck. The _Revere_ won't let you down." Igor saluted. Deep in his gut he got a sinking feeling. _Was this really the best call?_

"I know you won't Captain Verbinski." Bish replied with a cocky smirk. The channel dropped and Igor was mid-sigh when Commodore Lansford appeared on screen.

"Captain," Lansford seemed weary, his voice quieter, "I've already briefed the _Huntsman_ on the assignment. However, I have an additional objective for you. It's personal."

Igor quickly reigned in his sigh with an effort and replied, "Yes, sir?"

"You take care of Sho'ko, son. Don't listen to everything Commander Lorck told you. Just go out there look and come back. No heroics, understood?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

"Good. I like weddings more than funerals, let's not disappoint Peter."

Igor chuckled. "No, sir. We were looking at houses on Lakeside overlooking the mining site."

"Engineers," Lansford chuckled warmly, "Happy hunting Captain."

"Likewise, sir." Igor saluted the screen.

"Always." Lansford returned the gesture and terminated the call.

A few moments later the terminal chimed that a message had been received. Igor found the attached files and a more succinct breakdown of the operation. Blind Eye, a black op, devised by the head of Militia intelligence had an odd feeling about it that Igor couldn't place. He shrugged. _Maybe all black ops have as much smoke and mirrors as the Coalition has red tape?_ Igor chuckled at that thought.

He slotted a briefing at the shift change for Oran, Fairwyn, and the Head Engineer Preskott and sent it off to their terminals. Lansford was trusting him with a mission created by the second or third highest Militia leader and Igor in turn was trusting his crew with getting them to Aubrey. Igor thought back to the two Coals that tried to jump ship earlier and thought best how to keep their contagious behavior contained. The last thing they needed was for more Coal sailors to start an itch. Igor's throat suddenly felt dry, if only he still had some of that herbal tea of Peter's.

At the noon shift change, his head officers filtered in to his quarters. Oran arrived first from the bridge and nodded politely to Fairwyn as she entered after. Both were surprised to see Preskott up from his hold in Engineering. Preskott looked every bit a Martian as the Frontier allowed. He was slightly taller from the gravity of the planet and spoke only when necessary (a Martian cultural staple). The Martian ducked into the room and made a polite curt nod to his fellow officers.

"Thank you for coming," Igor started awkwardly, "I have received some news from Lansford. As of tomorrow, the Second is headed for the Freeport System in assisting in Operation Harmony's Hope."

Lance frowned and folded his arms. Fairwyn stood unchanged, her role as MARDET was unchanged. Igor thought perhaps, he caught something of a wince in Preskott's expression.

Igor continued with his briefing. "We however, got an _oar_ to row." he opened his tablet to show the Aclyoneus belt. All but Lance looked confused by his statement. "As of this moment, any word of this briefing cannot leave this room. Is that understood?"

They all agreed.

"Good. This operation comes from the top and is code black. While the Second will be headed to the frontlines in Freeport. We will link up with the _Huntsman_ and head to Fort Custer-By-The-Belt and RV with the _CFSV Explorer II_.

"Our mission is to Observe and Report or O-A-R for short. There will be no enemy engagement during this mission, we are strictly there to see if there are more clues as to the whereabouts of Sovereign or other HVT's."

Fairwyn raised her hand, "Soverign, sir?"

Igor made a grin, "Head tin can himself, Spyglass."

His officer's eyes went wide at the revelation. It was stoic Preskott, who interrupted the brief silence. "Ser," the clipped accent of the Southern Highlands sneaking out, "what need of me?"

Igor remembered a dossier on Mars about the regional differences between Lowland and Highland Martians. Barring the bustling hub of Hellas or Argyre, most workers in the south spoke in quick clipped words so as to minimize air intake, while the traders and more well off Martians of the north, spoke almost like their Earthen counterparts. It appears it wasn't any different for Preskott on the Frontier either.

"Well, I need you to break a few filters."

Preskott took in a deep breath, "Aye, Ser."

"I know I'm asking a lot but the filters have to be severe enough to warrant a replacement at Custer. According to Lorck, we can't risk our movements getting out."

"Excuse me, sir. Lorck as in Commander Bish?" Oran said bewildered.

"Star struck, Lieutenant?" Igor teased him.

"Yes, sir. Does he know about..." Lance made a sweeping gesture around them indicating the Second Fleet as a whole.

"I have full confidence in Commodore Lansford, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Oran apologized, turning red.

"There's more," Igor continued, "there's an SRS proxy team led by Sargent Ramirez. Fairwyn, assist them as best you can, see that their Titans are properly stowed and make sure their ID's are added to the training pods. We'll be expecting them by oh-nine-hundred."

"I'll see to it." She promised.

"Proxies? So, Mercenaries?" Oran scratched his chin. "Can we trust them?"

"They're Militia mercs, Lieutenant. Trust them as much as we have to." Igor answered. "Alright, Preskott, I need some dead filters. Fairwyn, your security team will be helping manage the chaos and welcome our SRS proxies. Dismissed. Oran, stay a minute."

"Sir, I apologize if I spoke out of line," he began.

"Don't worry about it." Igor brushed the comment aside. "That incident, this morning, let's take the pin out of that."

Oran's face stiffened. "Yes, sir."

"I've decided that possible deserters, while we are on a black ops mission from top brass is a hinderance, we cannot afford. Lieutenant, I need you to turn them into Fairwyn for three days in the brigg and half reduction of pay for the month."

Oran stared at him for a moment, "Sir, perhaps now isn't the time..."

"I gave you an order, Lieutenant." Igor repeated firmly. "There's too much riding on this mission for one of them to break radio silence. Is that understood?"

"Loud and clear, Captain." Oran saluted, turned on his heel, and left the room.

Igor buried his face in his hands. _What am I going to say to Aubrey? Forget that, what do I tell Peter?_ The urge to call his husband was great but the young Captain resisted. Lansford had placed his faith in him and on MacAllan's grave, he wasn't gonna let him down. Instead, Igor pulled up the itinerary for the day and checked to see which part of the ship he was supposed to inspect next. Have to keep up the impression that everything was fine until it wasn't.


	18. Chapter 16 - Harper

"Pain"

Concord System

Haven

2698, November 28th

* * *

It felt so good to be sort of a Pilot again. Harper thought as she unlatched a piece of protective padding and dropped it onto her cot. She was almost reluctant to get out of the suit at all because how good it made her feel. A shower and a change and then over to the Turners for dinner. It was weird how almost at home she felt here now. The reflection made her pause mid change and then shake her head.

An hour later, she was walking through the chilly night air towards their house. It was weird to think that the light in the night's sky was a planet not a moon, like on Earth. She looked up at the larger planet in the night's sky. If it was up there, then she was upside down to them here. _Oddly appropriate._

She knocked on the Turner's door and a few moments later, Sophia opened it with a wide welcoming grin. "How ya goin'?"

"Alright. And you, Ms. Turner?" Harper said, accepting the one armed hug.

"My back be killin' me. We finished the rest of the fields today. Saw you jumpin' all arvo! Fun that."

Harper couldn't hide her smile, "Yeah. It feels good. Feel a bit more myself."

"I'm sure love. Chuck! Harper's 'ere!"

"Oi!" Charlie shouted from the kitchen, humor in his voice. "Don't call me Chuck in front of her. I'm her boss, it'll make me look like I'm human. Oh – bugger. Well, call me Chuck and you're fired."

A beat passed before Sophia burst into laughter followed by Charlie. The big man untied an apron and tossed it onto the table.

"Getcha a drink, love?" Sophia brushed into the kitchen past Harper leaving her in the hallway.

"Um," Was all Harper could say.

"Beer?" Charlie asked.

"Sure, yeah." She replied and walked in as far as the doorway.

"Sit Harper, come now. We're not bogans." Sophia pulled a chair out for her.

"Aren't we?" Charlie chuckled as he pulled a couple of beers from the fridge. "We've gone from one backwater to another."

"Shut yer gob, Mr. Turner." Sophia smartly chided him.

"Sorry, missus." He handed the beer to Harper. "Here's ya coldie."

"Cheers," Harper replied, taking the cold aluminum can in both hands.

There was still this feeling of awkwardness being here. The last time, she'd been at this house, Harper had been angry at everyone. Yet, despite that first impression, the Turners had invited her over for food again since she was helping out with the rail bridge. They were good people the Turners. Harper curled her fingers tighter around the can. _Mayumi,I hope you don't hate me for being happy here._

"Hey Harp." Russ said as he entered the room.

"There's my wee man." Charlie grinned and rustled his son's hair.

"Da!" Russ whined as he wormed his body away from his dad's hand.

"Whatcha been up to eh, son?" His dad asked.

Harper giggled it reminded her of when her dad came home from his jobs and collapsing on the couch utterly exhausted. Harper would be up stairs doing her school work and rush down to see him. One of his eyes would open and he'd make a weak grin.

 _"Hi there angel._ " He'd say.

 _"Da! You're late. Where you've been?"_

 _"Ah ya know, took a quick spin around the globe."_

 _"Again?"_

 _"Metal is what houses and ships are made of Angel."_

 _"Couldn't the IMC give you a safer job?"_

His grin faded and her dad looked up at the ceiling. It looked like he was going to say something but didn't.

"Harper?" Sophia's voice cut into her thoughts. "You alright, love?"

"Sorry?" Suddenly aware of her surroundings again. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good, cause here's the barbie." Charlie put a piece of barbecued meat on a plate and handed it to her.

She took it and waited to see what everyone else did first. They all dug in silently eating with quiet familiarity. An odd comment here about the rice fields, another about problems with late shipments. There wasn't any large conversation until Sophia finished eating.

"Olivia?" Harper suddenly looked up at being called her first name. Sophia had put down her fork and was resting a hand on her cheek.

"Hm?" Harper mumbled back.

"Everything's been going alright for you here, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, of course it is." Harper's face suddenly burned as the Turners all looked at her. Nervously, she shook a strand of hair from her face and curled it behind her ears. _I'm trying not to be rude, can't she see that? Don't draw attention to it. Why she calling by my first name now anyways? Just let's have a nice dinner, alright?_ Beads of sweat were starting to build on her temple. Quickly, she snatched up her beer and took a long swig.

"It's fine mum, jus' let her eat." Russ said.

Harper nodded but internally she was grateful for the defense on her behalf.

"She's probably just nervous," Russ continued, glancing her way confirming his suspicions. _Yes! Exactly._ Harper was happy she'd bonded with the one person in this hamlet that understood her. She began lowering the beer from her mouth to rest it back on the table. The thanks already forming in her mind, the intention to pick up her fork and to eat the next piece of meat, already queued. "because she was at Troy when we were attacked."

The end of his sentence hit Harper like a Titan's punch. The beer landed wobbly on the table, her hand that meant to pick up the fork instead braced itself against the table. All the words that had formed in her mind instead spilled out in a single surprised syllable.

"Twhuh?"

Any jovial air in the room had quickly vented. Harper's mind swirled with thoughts. _Why would he bring that up right now? Do they normally talk about kinda thing? Is that normal here? Do they normally talk about nearly being killed by their former side?_

Charlie's face turned crimson, his expression changed from shock to horror to anger. Sophia folded her fingers together and pursed her lips.

"We don't talk about Troy, Russ." Sophia said sternly.

"Why not!?" Russ raised his voice.

"There's nothing to talk about." Charlie said forking a piece of meat into his mouth.

 _Oh god._ Harper's heart was beating so loud she was sure it was going to pop right out her chest. _I've fucked up. The only nice people here who've done nothing but kindness by me and I've fucked it up. I've ruined it. I've ruined it just by being here!_ Her body shook and she couldn't stop it.

"No one talks about Al!" Russ persisted. "He was your best friend Da and I never hear you talk about him! Not once!"

Charlie took a sip of beer in silence.

"Russ – just drop it." Sophia said placing her hand on the table.

"Why Mum? So we can go back to pretending nothing happened? At least Harper talks to me about it."

"Is that true?" Charlie suddenly spoke directly to her, his voice intense. "Have you been swapping war stories with my son?"

 _Shit_. Harper was horrified. She didn't know what to say. Even if that wasn't entirely true, what was there to say. Everything she had worked for was going to be taken from her. The grapple kit, her lodging at the Brewing company, her new found stability. _Mayumi, I'm sorry. I think I've failed you._

"Well?" Charlie asked as Sophia and Russ looked on.

She saw that she was the reason for bringing up the hurt in their lives while she was still trying to sort her own. Like Russ, she was still trying to discover the reasons why these bad things happened. Only no one wanted to tell him, for her there was no one left to explain.

"I wasn't there for the attack..." Harper started, not wanting to say massacre as the Militia had proclaimed it, sparking the Angel City Riots. "I was transferred in after when everyone, you, had retreated to the cliffs. During the aftermath, Russ met my friend Mayumi. They chatted that's all."

Harper sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "She was brilliant and my only friend, but our Squad Leader pushed us apart. She was so... conflicted by what she saw... that she..." Harper pulled up her wrist-comm, "she went to Gen Two to forget everything. Completely deleting who she was except for the memories that she sent me. There... there the only thing of her I have left and I can't even see them because the battery's dead. So until now, Russ has been the only one who knew her besides me."

She finished her story with a nervous chuckle and a wiped a tear forming in her eye.

"So, I'm sorry," she continued, "if you want me to leave, I will. If you want me to stop working for you, I will. If you want me to leave the hamlet, I'll do that too. I never meant to bring my own pain onto you all. It's a horrible way to thank you for how kind you've been to me."

The seconds seemed to stretch on forever after she stopped talking. Harper had the urge to start again but willed herself not to. She had said her piece, it was up to the Turners now. Russ was looking down at the table. Sophia had her forehead on her folded hands. Charlie had folded his arms, his face awash with decision.

When someone finally spoke, it surprised Harper that it was Charlie.

"No one wants you gone. You're right though, there's a lot of pain here but not all of it's yours." He turned to Russ. "I know you want answers son but we lived there for years and that grief still hasn't passed. Al was my mate but he's gone, so are Abigail, Hamish, and Mac. Being forced to leave you behind nearly killed me too. So when you came back I swore to do whatever I could to keep this family safe. Barker's. Concord. That's about as safe as you can get on the Frontier's edge. That's all I'll say for now. Aces?"

"Yeah, Da." Russ smiled.

"Good."

"Was that what was bothering you Olivia?" Sophia asked.

Harper made a tight smile, "Yeah. Mostly." A quick shake again to get her hair out of the way. "Sorry, my hair hasn't been this long since before Pilot school."

"Here, love." Sophia got up from her chair and came over. "Would you mind if I braided it for you? Keep all that pesky hair in line."

"I – Sure. That'd be lovely." Harper accepted and pulled her hair tie out for Sophia to work.

Sophia began dividing her hair into separate strands, pulling them together intricately. It was fun feeling Sophia work with her hair. The boys at the table watching as they finished up their plates, the argument forgotten. After they'd finished, Charlie and Russ busted the dishes and sorted out the left overs. A little after that, Sophia finished by tying the hair tie over the end to hold it together.

"There, watcha think?"

Harper pulled the braid over her shoulder and examined it. She liked it and Sophia had gotten most of her hair to pull away from her face. Her fingers felt up and down the braid feeling the tautness.

"I love it, thank you."

"Cheers." Sophia grinned.

A ring came from a wrist-comm and for a split second, Harper thought it was her's. Charlie grunted and picked the thing up like a phone.

"Turner here," he answered. Harper watched as his face made several changes in expression. "He what? Who? SRS?"

Harper's heart stopped. They were here for her. A flood of correlating details ran through her mind. How Anderson had left her with Charlie on her first day on Haven. The wrist-comm with Mayumi's details. The SRS must be back for her.

"Olivia, you're pourin' sweat dear. Everything alright?" Sophia tried to comfort her. "Charlie what's goin' on?"

"It's Nyx at the bar." He lowered the wrist-comm. "Seems Vlocke's got himself up to the tits in trouble with some SRS blokes."

Harper felt her whole body slack from the release in tension. She slumped down into the chair with sigh of relief. They hadn't come for her but for the bar. Maybe even for Vlocke himself, recruit him back into the Militia or something? Though, she thought very few people even wanted someone as broken as him nowadays.

"So? That's normal innit?" Sophia clicked her tongue.

"Yeah," Charlie drawled, "but if he makes a mess. She's askin' for me to sort it out."

"You're a strong man mister Turner but not as strong as you used to." Sophia shot him a knowing glance.

"Aye, cut that out." He said dismissively to Sophia and then to Nyx, "I'll be right down."

"Take Harper at least," Sophia suggested sternly.

"Nah, it's fine." Charlie replied.

"No, it's okay, I'll help." Harper said standing up from her seat. "Probably need someone to help you carry him back anyways."

Charlie laughed. "Aye, that's true."

Harper followed Charlie out from his home and back into the cool night air of the hamlet. They had gotten as far as the rice paddies when Harper cleared her throat.

"Charlie, hold on a minute." She played with her new braid.

"Whats up Harper?" Charlie furrowed his brow.

"The, um, SRS in the bar," Harper began, "I can't do anything that'll be seen as... you know."

Charlie looked at her for a moment confused and then he realized. "Oh, that Captain chap, way back. Aye, no worries. Jus' get Vlocke home in one piece. I'll sort out the SRS."

"Charlie, thank you." Harper stopped walking and looked up at him. "My da would've liked you, I think."

The big man looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his bald head. "Ack well, I doubt yer da would want to meet a turncoat like me but thanks all the same."

They walked the rest of the way mostly in silence. When they arrived at the bar, it was loud but not packed with mostly four maybe five voices making most of the noise. Harper picked up Vlocke's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying. Charlie sighed and shook his head.

"Just follow me in Harper and when I say so, pull Vlocke out and pray ol' Barker doesn't hear about it."

"Right," Harper replied. Though very interested in why she hadn't heard more about Barker until now. Like most people in the hamlet, they mostly kept their past to themselves.

Charlie opened the main door and the music boomed. A couple locals were at the bar making occasional nondescript glances to one of the booths. One of the men laughed harshly and then a big muscular woman laughed deeply. Vlocke was bent over in a headlock by another man, while the four others in the booth watched. When the man who was standing spoke, she knew immediately who he was.

"Ay, come on now. No way to treat one of mi compañero."

 _Ramirez._ The man Winters had tried to bury along with a squad of Marines. A man she hated so much that she had cut Harper from the team because she was a distraction. Now here he was with Vlocke in a head lock and a grin on his face.

"Pedir perdón a Newg." Ramirez continued.

"Sarge," Newg weakly said.

"Newg," a harsh voice said from inside the booth, "this is the asshole that fucked over your face. If you don't want to hit him, me and Dom will."

"I wanna break his pretty face." The woman, Dom, said with a big grin.

"Aye, ya doo but I willnae say sorry. Yer face, very punchable." Vlocke said derisively.

Ramirez forcefully slammed Vlocke's face against the table. "Tranquilo, por favor." Ramirez chuckled darkly and the whole table laughed.

"Charlie," Harper grabbed his arm, "I know him..."

"Seriously? You know that dickhead?"

"The man with Vlocke," She nodded in their direction, "he's Ramirez. He's ex-IMC."

"Anything else I should know before I introduce me self?"

"He's a liar and cutthroat, I don't know why he's working with the SRS."

"It's like I said before," Charlie cracked his neck, "the Coalition ain't perfect. Oi!"

The table hushed and Ramirez looked over at Charlie. A few heads poked out from behind the booth. The harshed voice man eyed Charlie and then drunkenly groped her with his gaze. Harper couldn't help but grimace with disgust.

"Hey Dom," Ramirez said calmly with Vlocke still under his arm, "check out this guy. He's almost as big as you."

"What?" Dom stood up in the booth and eyed Charlie. "Eh."

"You've had your fun. Now let the man go and be on your way." Charlie said cooly.

"But I haven't had my fun yet." Ramirez tighten his grip around Vlocke. "This man hasn't apologized to my squad mate yet."

"Fook ye." Vlocke choked out.

Ramirez clicked his tongue. "Show 'em Newg."

Reluctantly Newg stood up. What might have been a handsome face was broken with signs of cosmetic surgery and bruising. Harper could see the bitterness in his face and his embarrassment at being displayed. She hadn't known Vlocke much but Harper could imagine him getting into a fight someone pretty easily.

"Hey," Ramirez said to her, "were you IMC?"

"Don' worry about her now. I asked you to leave." Charlie continued. Harper was sure she could hear a little hesitation in his voice.

"I think you were a Pilot too." Ramirez grinned. "See that look everyone. That's the glare."

"Used to it, are you?" Harper shot back.

He chuckled and gently swayed his head. "Do I know you?"

"Harper," Charlie tried to stop her.

"You almost got me killed once." She glared directly into his eyes, forcing herself not to look away.

Ramirez stared back for a long moment before he suddenly slammed Vlocke's face against the table and tossed him onto the floor. "The Boneyard! Hah hah!" Slowly, his grin faded away and he looked vaguely concerned. "Hey? Did my old XO bite it on Demeter?"

Harper's stomach fluttered, excited and scared at the same time. "Demeter?"

"That's not funny," Ramirez grew very serious, "you better tell me she's dead. Everyone died on Demeter."

All Harper could hear was her heartbeat in her ears and the lump of fear in her throat trying to get out. It was all she could do to keep her breathing under control as she continued to stare Ramirez right in the face.

"What happened on Demeter?" She asked slowly, deliberately.

Ramirez's face looked angry like men did when they weren't in control. "You don't know. You actually don't know? Eso es increíble! The biggest battle on the Frontier and you don't know?"

"I wouldn't know, Ramirez," Harper licked her lips, "she sent me to Persephone to die when the towers fell."

He looked at her, curiosity, disbelief, respect. "You survived. How?"

Without breaking eye contact, she pointed down at Vlocke. "He saved my life. I owe him."

"Bullshit," Newg suddenly snapped. "That man is a fucking bastard. Why would he risk his life to save an IMC?"

"You're probably right," Harper said, she was practically quivering with excitement, "doesn't change the fact that he did."

Ramirez looked at her and then he smiled. "Bien. Que bueno, senorita. Por tu – I won't kill him. I respect anyone who survives Winters."

Charlie's stance eased.

"But," Ramirez said, "Newg here, still has punch him in the face. That's the rules." Ramirez shrugged as if the matter was out of his hands.

At that, the ugly man and Dom got out of the booth and hoisted Vlocke up. His face was bruised and bleeding. One of his eyes was closed but his open eye was looking at her. Dom pulled back hard on Vlocke's man-bun as the ugly man squeezed Vlocke's face.

"Come on Newg. Hit him!" The ugly man coaxed him.

"Yeah, fuck his pretty face." Dom grinned.

Slowly, Newg got out of the booth and gave Harper a long look. Like he didn't want to hit Vlocke and wanted her to know. She scoffed. Newg looked disappointed she didn't try to stop him and then hardened his face and socked Vlocke right in the cheek. Dom and the ugly man let him fall to the floor.

His comrades patted him on the shoulder and congratulated him. Charlie pushed past them and stood above Vlocke, showing he wasn't going to tolerate them anymore. Ramirez, Dom, and the ugly man left through the door. As he left the ugly man blew her a kiss. Another silent man came out of the booth and rested his hand on Newg.

"Let's go." He said quietly to Newg and the young man nodded and left.

"Sorry," Newg apologized as he passed her and Harper vaguely nodded and walked over to Charlie.

Vlocke looked peaceful when he was knocked out. Content. In his own weird way, he looked happier now. Perhaps, he'd gotten closure in his own way. Charlie was yelling for Nyx to bring ice and bandages. Looking at him, she couldn't say if he deserved it or not but Newg hadn't looked happy.

"I dunno what the fuck that was about but at least he's not dead." Charlie growled.

"Sorry, I just..." Harper apologized.

"Don't worry about it. You alright?" Charlie ordered.

"Tell you tomorrow."

"I hear that. Make sure they ain't waitin' on the stairs for us while I bandage up Vlocke here."

Harper nodded and peeked her head out the bar doors. When she didn't see anyone right away, she took the stairs one at a time. A grey haired man was leaning against the wall at the end of the stairwell. She stopped and stared at him.

"Helluva thing you did in there." He said and cocked his head towards the bar door.

"Yeah?" She noticed the pistol grip sticking out of his coat. "You SRS too?"

"Hell no," the man smirked and then gritted his jaw, "I'm Robert Taube – your boss. Take care of yourself, kid."

Harper softly scoffed as the man turned and walked back up the hill towards the grain silo. Charlie and Vlocke stumbled out the entrance. Harper stared at Charlie. She wanted to apologize for her caged up emotions. To explain that parts of her past had just shown up in a bizarre fashion that even she couldn't understand or begin to explain. She started to draw a breath to apologize.

"Later," Charlie cut her off, "help me get 'im home."

Vlocke weighed a lot more than he looked as they dumped him onto his bed. Charlie clapped his hands together for a job well done. Harper shook her head at the sprawled and beaten mess of Vlocke as he cuddled a pillow to his cheek. He looked like an adorable drunk bruised baby.

"Well," Charlie said at last, "sorry for dragging you into this."

Harper grinned. "Sorry for ruining dinner."

Charlie chuckled somberly. "Aye. All's forgiven." The big man leaned against the door way and stared up at the ceiling, remembering Russ' outburst. "I know I have to talk to him about it eventually but he's so young and he's suffered so much. Why would he want to know about the bad things, when things are good now?"

Harper shrugged. "He probably wants to understand – we all do."

Charlie heaved a deep sigh and pushed off the doorway. "I suppose we do. Listen, do you not actually know about Demeter?"

The uneasy feeling returned and Harper wasn't sure what to say. "Do I?"

"No, probably not." Charlie told her truthfully. "It destroyed him when I told him. I would hate for you to end up like him."

Harper pulled out Mayumi's wrist-comm. Winters would've taken the squad to Demeter. In all likelihood, they were all dead. Yet, Harper felt that the Mayumi she knew wasn't dead at all. She was in that device in her hands. It was hard to describe in the moment but Harper felt that was the rigth way to feel about it. She could start over here with the Turners and figure out where to go from there.

She put the wrist-comm away. "No, don't tell me now. Maybe I'll want to know in future? Who knows."

"Yeah." Charlie held out his hand.

She chuckled and instead gave him a hug, like she used to do with her dad. "You're a good man Charlie."

"Thanks? I've always tried my best."

"Russ knows. He just wants someone to talk to. When you're ready, I'm sure he will be too."

"Yeah. Ta."

With that, Charlie left. Harper pulled a bottle from the fridge and sat on the couch. Flipping on the console, there was a Kodai Mining commercial she'd seen a couple times. "Kodai Mining – We can dig it." The logo for the company appeared as the cheesy announcer said their slogan. Eventually, the FNN program returned to a debate about corporate rights in the Coalition.

One man, a Kodai representative with a robotic eye sat in a cream suit. The title card addressed him as: Dr. Sarakawa. Across from him, sat a man with dark hair and an easy smile in a rolled up sleeve shirt and dress pants.

"Hi and welcome back. We're still joined by our guest Doctor Sarakawa, President of Kodai Industries. When we left off, we were discussing the critics of the special status Kodai has with the Coalition and the Militia."

"Yes, Tom," Sarakawa smiled politely, "as I said before, Kodai has long supported the Militia even before the Demeter Blitz. Being one of the permanent members of the Coalition is a gracious offer by Field Commander Graves."

"Yes," Tom nodded, "but what about those who oppose a company being able to direct influence politics. There are those who claim this is just another way of Kodai becoming like the IMC."

Sarakawa laughed goodheartedly. "I would tell those people to attend the council meetings. We're just proud to be making over five-thousand new jobs in our mining branch as well as eight-thousand in our new intersystem shipping department."

Tom nodded again, "Yes, that's quite the achievement. Though allegations still persist that corporations and government should stay far apart."

"Kodai Industries, has and always will be, a loyal member of the Coalition and supporter of the Militia. These critics can very much think that but I couldn't possibly comment."

Harper turned the console off. She'd had enough war and politics for one day. Flipping through the channels, she finally settled on one doing reruns of her favorite show growing up. It revolved around a purple colored girl and her time traveling dog as they solved mysteries around the Sol System. Harper relaxed until she forgot all about the past, content at least for a little while to curl up with cozy memories.


	19. Chapter 17 - Noughton

"Incident"

Concord System

Haven

2698, November 29th

* * *

Zuda growled in anger. Behind him, Dominque, though she preferred to be called Dom, agreed with him by grumbling in agreement. It was supposed to have been a night of celebration and then board the _Revere_ hung over, but triumphant. Noughton though, tightened and loosen his fist. He had at last confronted the Pilot who had belittled him during the MacAllan Blitz and yet Noughton didn't feel like it was real.

For months, he had envisioned how he would make that Pilot pay for hurting him. Yet, what Noughton saw wasn't the Pilot that taunted him in the past but a husk of a man. Demeter had changed him. Like it had changed all of them. Vlocke, the man who had made his life miserable had unintentionally saved him from the fiery death that his friends and comrades dropped into on Demeter. Noughton from that day onwards, strove to be what he thought a Pilot should be. Not the trash that Vlocke was or the husk he was now but a Pilot that Grunts like him could look up to. There were good Pilots out there, like the Sarge, who gave Pilots a good name.

After he got out of the hospital ward, Noughton tried for weeks to be picked up by any squads affected by Demeter. Not a single one was looking a Grunt with a fucked up face like his. Until Ramirez gave him a chance. The Sarge was SRS and ex-IMC to boot. No one worked harder than him to earn respect among the Militia. Iker, was cut from a different mold than other Pilots. Gutock, Dom, Zuda, and Him would never have been accepted by any regular Pilot squad even among the Militia and yet the Sarge had taken them all in. Ram's Rejects, they called themselves but Ram never called them that, they were his Los Mejores. _The Best_. Sarge, would train with you for as long as you needed and always worked his ass off to get them anything they needed. When Newg needed a new jumpkit, Sarge busted down whoever he needed to get the kit.

Just a month after they raided Overlook, the IMC blacksite where they were housing POWs for experiments, Sarge finally was able to get them a single Titan. Ramirez made sure they all got access to it and pod time to further their skills. Then yesterday, they finally got clearance for the whole squad. If that wasn't news enough, Droz had given them there first real mission in six months. Ramirez bit back proud tears as they finally were getting the real missions they wanted. Taking from the squad savings, Iker promised them the best, Barker's. What they got was...

"What a waste." Zuda scoffed.

"And over that trash too." Dom added.

"Olvídalo," Ramirez said from the front of the Samson, "if they didn't want the best – fuck 'em."

Dom shook her head and crossed her arms. "Sarge, that's not the point!" she protested.

"Dom, think of this as a small setback. Once, we're hot, Barker'll bring the champagne to us. Until then, we keep working hard."

"Hey, is it true what that bitch said though?" Zuda asked. "Is your old squad still kicking?"

Noughton saw Ramirez's face sour. "No hables una mierda de gente que podría joderte, Zuda."

Dom laughed at Zuda's expense. She knew more about the Core trade languages than they did. Noughton knew a little but not enough to really understand the Sarge all the time.

"Shit? Shit what? What'd he say, Dom? What'd he say?"

Dom just kept laughing. Ramirez looked over at Noughton and nodded. "Bien, Newg?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm good Sarge." He lied. His gut felt awful. Vlocke looked wrecked, was it okay to punch a guy while he's broken?

"Hey! If there's one good thing that came from all this. It's that that piece of shit got what he deserved."

"Hell yes, sir." Noughton agreed, trying to put weight behind the words.

"Well what now, Sarge?" Zuda groaned.

"To the _Revere_ Zuda." Ram answered.

"Fuck!" Zuda growled.

Touching down in the hanger brought back a few memories for Noughton. There was always the wave of relief upon returning home from a drop. Grunts only survived by working together. It made it all the more painful for him when they came to see him. Somehow, he kept running into Vlocke and kept getting hit. So while Noughton was recovering, his buddies kept not coming back and until after Demeter, it was just Teegan.

Noughton and Teegan meet in a drop bay just like the _Revere's_ on the _Texas_. They hadn't known each other well but the loss made them close. For a while. Teegan and him had made a decision to join the 909th MacAllan on Concord that was until Ramirez was looking for Grunts who wanted to become Pilots. Who didn't want to be a Pilot? Dozens tried out but most left when they discovered it was just in name only. The SRS didn't trust an ex-IMC with much. Mostly, Ramirez was offering hard work and bullshit. Teegan didn't want to be a Pilot so bad after that but Newg, who'd been treated like shit since he became a Grunt wanted it more.

"Pilots will always treat us Grunts like shit Teegan. That's why you and me have to become Pilots to prove to the little guys they aren't." Noughton said to him one night at the cantina.

"It's one in a thousand for a Grunt like us to make it as a Pilot Noughton. If you join Ramirez, it'll be one in a million."

Noughton never saw Teegan again after that. Now, hopping out of the Crow he saw in front of him a shiny green Atlas that was all his. Shivers ran up his spine and Noughton couldn't help but make a huge smile.

 _I made it._

Ramirez came along side him slapped him on the back. "How's it feel – Pilot?"

Noughton reverberated with excitement and laughter. "Sarge, I mean... that one's mine right?"

"Por sepesto!" Ram grabbed him by the shoulder and led him forward. "This is just the beginning. Verás!"

"Yes, sir." Noughton grinned.

"Those Titans work right?" Zuda said coming alongside them, looking up at an Ogre.

"All five Titans are functional and operational." A woman in a Marauder uniform approached them. "Sargent Fairwyn, _Revere's_ MARDET Chief of Security."

"Sargent Ramirez, SRS Proxy detachment eighteen, Ma'am." Ram gave a salute to Fairwyn.

Fairwyn returned the salute and then brought her hand forward to shake the Sarge's hand. "Welcome aboard, Sarge. We've got bunks set up for your team in the Pilot Quarters. Besides me and couple others, there's no other Pilots on board."

"You're not at operating strength?" Ramirez asked as Fairwyn lead them away from the drop bay.

"Negative, the Second's still awaiting the first graduating classes of the nine-oh-nine below." She answered.

"All sailors, no soldiers." Ramirez commented.

"Come on, I'll show you were you can stow your gear." Fairwyn cranked open a bulkhead. "Cap'n's given you and your team access to the training pods. He also wants you to report to his quarters ASAP."

"Can do, Sargent. Alright, boys and girls, let's get settled then come back to the hanger to do a couple laps in twenty. Good?"

"Sounds good, Sargent!" They all chorused back to him.

The Pilot barracks was just as Fairwyn told them. Mostly empty except for the MARDET staff of Grunts with naval uniforms in a camouflage pattern called "Frontier Sea," that supposedly was Graves' idea if Noughton heard correctly. Fairwyn got them settled and then departed with the Sarge while Dom watched her leave.

"Wow," She said wistfully.

"I bet you right now," Zuda said opening up his duffel bag, "she's not your type."

"Fuck you." Dom retorted. "I'll be eating her pussy in a week."

"Kid," the quiet Gutock finally spoke, "you bunk with her and I'll bunk with this idiot. Okay?"

Gutock clapped Zuda's shoulder. "Hey, wait a minute!" Zuda protested.

"Fine with me." Dom smiled as she pulled herself up into one of the "cubby" style beds.

Gutock pushed off Zuda and opened his rifle bag and pulled out his DMR. "Newg, after laps, you and me will hit the range. I need to dial in my rifle."

"Sure." Noughton said. Gutock could've become a Pilot, he had the training for it but he had a rare biological defect that kept him from being a full-fledged Pilot but as a mercenary, that wasn't a problem.

According to the Sarge, some guy named Blisk would make them do the same thing pre and post-mission. The way Ramirez said it, the IMC was always constantly training them around the clock. Drill, train, eat, sleep, then repeat. Even the Marines did that too. Noughton believed it. As him and the rest of the team ran laps around the hanger, the _Revere_ sailors watched amused. It made Noughton appreciate how much they had accomplished before Graves turned the Militia around. If a genius like MacAllan could take out a fourth of the IMC's Airforce and main fuel depot with the sorry state they were in before, imagine what Graves could do now. It made Noughton excited to think the war would keep going there way.

The Second Fleet was going to go off to fight in Freeport but Noughton could tell by the look on their faces, none of these men had seen actual combat before. Hopefully it was enough to push the IMC right of there forever. A whole system right in one of the main shipping lanes. That'd be a big win for them. No more raids, no more moving around. Actual Coalition-Militia free space. That sounded good to Noughton. _Free._

When the laps finished and Sarge still hadn't shown, they broke into pairs. Gutock and Newg navigated the passages and decks of the _Revere_ until they found the armory and range. The ship's gun range was similar to other ships he'd been posted on before. Gutock settled his rifle on the table and began fixing his scope to the gun.

"Low and to the right." Noughton said after Gutock fired his first shot.

Gutock grunted and changed the dials then fired again.

"Still low, less right."

They repeated this for about ten minutes before Gutock finally spoke again. "You okay with what happened at Barker's?"

Noughton looked down at Gutock a little embarrassed. "You noticed, huh?"

"Hard to miss." He fired again.

"Just under center. It wasn't what I expected that's for sure. I thought seeing him again would be... different."

"Always is." Gutock put in a fresh mag and shouldered the stock. He fired again finally landing dead on.

"Nice and centered, Gutock." Noughton smirked.

"Good." Gutock pulled his head up from the scope and cracked his back. "Listen, don't let it get to you. What may or may not of been is all in the past. You're better than him."

"You think so?" Noughton chuckled. Thinking about it, it never occurred to him to even leave the Militia like Vlocke had.

"I know so." Gutock ejected the magazine and began stripping and cleaning his rifle.

"Thanks," he said not sure what else to say.

The silent man grunted and Noughton took that to mean that their conversation was done. Newg left the gun range and wandered around towards the cantina hoping to meet up with Dom and Zuda. He liked Dom, he knew so little about her as she kept her past life tight to the chest. Zuda and him though, had a hard time getting along. He reminded Noughton a little too much like Vlocke at first. Plus, Zuda was always getting under his skin with remarks about his face.

Out of habit, Noughton rubbed his old bruises. Stitches, cool pads, minor facial reconstruction, a lot of work had gone into bringing his face close to what it used to be. His thoughts flashed back to Vlocke coming up to the table at Barker's. Asking them to buy him a drink, they brushed him off at first but Vlocke recognized him and then it went from there.

For a moment, he regretted not ruining Vlocke's face when he had the chance. He had been right there and he had the opportunity to do it but he just didn't. No, he knew why, Vlocke's eyes were hallow. There was no one home, just a husk of a man trying to forget. Noughton looked down at his fist and opened it with a sigh. They'd both lost everyone to Demeter, true, but that's where the similarities ended. The elevator doors opened and Noughton decided he'd had enough of bars and cantinas.

"So this is where you've been hiding, huh?" Ramirez grinned at discovering him in nearly full Pilot gear in the ship's gym.

Noughton finished his pull-up and dropped to the floor. "Sorry, Sarge."

"No, it's good. You're still pushing yourself."

"Yeah," Noughton wiped his face with a towel and pulled on the collar of his Pilot suit.

"It's the best way to earn respect. Not just from me – but anyone."

"Thanks, sir."

Noughton sat on a bench and rolled his shoulders. Ramirez leaned against the equipment and folded his arms. Noughton grabbed his canteen and took a swig of water. His body still mostly cool underneath thanks to the micromesh of the undersuit.

"Newg, we're meeting at the bar in ten but I hafta say first, you became a Pilot because of that jerkoff?"

Noughton chuckled. "Yeah. Can you believe it?"

Ramirez nodded. "You're more than half the man he ever was, you know that right?"

Newg rubbed his jaw, feeling one of the old scars. "I do." He paused then asked. "Was it tough for you Sarge to leave your old team behind?"

Ramirez's expression stiffen but returned to normal. "Newg, you remind me of Yas sometimes. Come on, let's not ruin the mood today, huh? The rest of the team's gonna meet in the cantina in ten, bien?"

Newg tried not to show his surprise or his disappointment. Ram hadn't mentioned a Yas before. Like Dom, Sarge wasn't gonna give up his history either. "Alright, let me hit the shower first."

"Alright. Hasta luego," Ramirez turned and left.

Noughton stood up after the Sarge was gone and headed towards the showers. He strapped on his armor again afterwards and headed towards the cantina. It was easy to pick out his squad, Sarge must've told them what Noughton was doing in the gym so the rest of the squad was in their Pilot armor too. Beer bottles were being passed around by Ramirez and the squad had trays of food in front of them. Nothing fancy like real food but the standard dry food dressed up with Gutock's own hot sauce to give it flavor.

The other thing Noughton noticed was that the crew of the _Revere_ was looking at them in awe. It made him feel like hero. The attention made him want to live up to his own expectations and to not let them down. The way a Pilot should be.

"Hey guys," Noughton said taking a seat.

"Newg! Just in time." Zuda slid him a beer.

"For what?"

"Barker's – part two!" Ramirez grinned holding up his beer. "A Los Majores y La Frontera!"

"And to Ram's Rejects!" Dom cheered, clashing her beer into the rest of theirs.

"Fuck yeah!" They all cheered.

The beer tasted cheap and mass produced. Perfect for sailors on long voyages where the crates could be stored in the temperatures of the cold void but not for their celebration. Even though, Noughton only had a small taste of Barker's, it made him yearn for it again. That champagne was the taste of champions, this was water in comparison. It didn't matter, they still drank it to blow off steam.

"Listen up, l-listen!" Ramirez's words slightly slurring. "Tomorrow, we'll assemble at oh-six hundred and show these guys what real Pilots are! So enjoy the celebration now b-but tomorrow it's back to round the clock drills. IMC style!"

They all groaned but Gutock, who nodded in stoic silence. Ramirez stood up from the table first to head back to the barracks. The squad went back to their drinks, slowly now as to draw out the final few sips they had left. Gutock checked his watch then drained his bottle and left. Zuda wasn't quite ready to leave just yet and ordered another round. Dom joined him for another round and pulled Noughton along.

The bartender eyed them over and told them they were at the limit for drinks. Noughton scoffed while Zuda argued with the red mustached man. Dom leaned against the counter listening to the argument while spacing out.

"Forget it, let's go." She finally spoke and yanked Zuda away from the bar by his shoulder.

"No, I want another drink!" Zuda ripped his arm free from Dom's grasp.

"I can call the MARDET if you want." The bartender offered as he grabbed a bin to collect their used bottles.

"No, that won't be..." Dom began but was cut off by Zuda.

"No, yeah, you should definitely call the MARDET. Especially, Fairwyn." He chuckled lustfully.

Dom clicked her tongue. "Not like this you don't. Trust me, Zuda."

"Yeah man," Noughton said, "do it tomorrow during PT with the Sarge. Take your shirt off or something."

"Yeah. Yeah! That's a great idea Newg!" Zuda nodded repetitively.

Dom rolled her eyes. "Men."

"What! Got somethin' to..." Zuda began to shout when the lights cut and were replaced by the emergency lights.

Panicked silence followed as everyone froze waiting to see what had happened. Murmurs and speculation ranging from power out to EMP were passed around in the low light. The ever present smell of recycled air slowly was replaced by a musty chemical smell.

Noughton had been aboard ships for a while now and it took him a second to remember what that smell meant. "The filter's failed."

"Yeah..." Dom said checking the ceiling. "Don't normally take this long to switch out though."

"You think so? Don't think I've noticed before." Newg admitted.

"That's kinda how I know. They have a fail date and you change 'em out. We should go." She lifted Zuda up by his arm yanking him towards the exit.

The PA crackled as they were halfway to the door. "Crew, this is the Captain speaking, there's been a filter failure on deck twenty-nine. All hand proceed to the nearest lift or ladder for the next available deck in an orderly manner. I say again, there's been a filter failure on deck twenty-nine. Please proceed to the next available deck in an orderly manner."

"Dumbass!" Dom hissed as all the drunks in the bar clambered to get through the cantina's porthole.

A drunk woman was thrown back into the crowd as two men began fighting each other just before the exit. All of the commotion was eating the precious air in the room. If they didn't get out soon, they'd pass out or suffocate.

"Let's try the back?" Newg suggested seeing the fight engulf the exit.

Dom nodded and adjusted Zuda as they struggled to make their way out the other porthole. Luckily it wasn't as crowded but Zuda holding Dom back they weren't covering ground as fast as more crew pushed past them to try and get out quick. A man stumbled over a chair that was bolted down and took the three other crew members down behind him.

Wordlessly, Dom thrusted Zuda onto Newg and yanked one of the Coals off the top and then rolled one of the Militia Sailors out of the way. She beckoned Newg forward. He was dragging the drunk Zuda who was muttering under his breath and swinging his arm around. Newg wasn't as built as Dom was as she slowly made room for him to pull Zuda along.

Suddenly, someone slammed into Zuda, throwing Newg to the ground where he hit his lip. "Fucking Pilots." Someone muttered as Newg watched their feet shuffle into the now growing pile at each end.

He felt dizzy and short of breath. His mind distantly realized this was a bad sign as the oxygen was being quickly consumed in the room. Someone pulled him back onto his feet and Noughton saw Dom clap him on the shoulders.

"You okay?" She asked.

He coughed and touched his lip. "No?"

"Yeah, good." She said straining her neck under the collar of the Pilot armor.

Noughton's head wobbled and his vision blurred as he panned around the room. Another bad sign. He was about to fall and Dom caught him again and propped up in a chair. "Stop moving damnit."

He tried but was starting to think she was the one moving worse than him as she stumbled to pick up Zuda. The room was growing quieter as the people within started to collapse from lack of air or exhaustion. Noughton clutched his forehead to stop his head from spinning and starred straight on focusing on the bottles at the bar.

"Hey," he said quietly to himself, "where's the bartender?"

"What?" Dom swallowed a cough and looked. "Son of a... come on. Get up Pilot! Get up!"

She pulled Noughton up by the wrist as she gripped zuda by the waist. Slowly they made their way around the tables and chairs towards the bar. When they reached it, Dom exhaustedly lurched Zuda atop the bar and shoved him over. The drunk Pilot made no sound as he rolled over the edge. Noughton gripped the top with both hands until his stopped spinning and carefully pulled himself up.

Noughton was beginning to regret wearing his Pilot armor as the helmet ring around his neck was stifling. He pulled at the stiff ring pointlessly. Around the room people were starting to give way to each other but several dotted the floor some breathing, some not.

Dom was already over and pulling Zuda up from the floor. Noughton realized what they were doing and climbed down from the bar following his team. The kitchen behind the bar was cluttered with alcoves for dishes to be stored when not in use. Warning signs and procedures filled the spaces in between. Noughton read each of them vaguely as Dom lead the way looking for where the bartender had gone. The silent hope between them that it lead to an exit. They needed air, fresh or recycled would be great right about now.

Dom suddenly leaned against the hull and dropped Zuda. Noughton stopped behind her and panted. He coughed as his throat felt dry and tight. Dom weakly motioned for him to keep moving but his body felt too heavy to move. His eyes were getting to be too heavy to stay open. Dom turned around and reached back to grab his suit. She grabbed his ear instead and tugged him forward.

It hurt a lot and the pain temporarily made him focus. He grabbed his throbbing ear and braced himself against a small hatch. A dumbwaiter! He chuckled hysterically for a second and groped around to find a way to open it.

Eventually, he realized it was on another level. In his slow state he read out loud the numbers two and eight. _Twenty-eight!_ The obvious answer making him giddy in the depraved oxygen state. He pressed the call button and the machine lurched and whirred. The effect made him bounce and wheeze in excitement.

Dom came up next to him and her face was equally excited. That was until the dumbwaiter arrived. It looked almost to small for him to fit in. She patted him on the shoulder and looked at her almost surprised.

She coughed. "Can you think? Can you focus?"

"Yeah." Newg said then coughed.

"Good," Dom racked with a hacking cough, "you go first and then I'll put Zuda in after. Pull him out okay? Don't you fucking pass out on me, Newg. And don't you forget I'm up here either. Do you hear me?"

"Gotcha." He wheezed.

Newg bunched himself up into a ball and Dom pushed his knees against his chest. His body hurt and the space was frighteningly small. As he was realizing what he'd gotten himself into, Dom shut the door and lowered the dumbwaiter. Newg felt himself move as noises from the bowels of the ship hummed against the walls of the lift. Then it stopped and the door opened.

Noughton quickly unfolded into the storeroom of the deck below takin in big gulps of recycled air. When he had had his fill, Noughton turned back around and sent the dumbwaiter back up to twenty-nine.

"Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on." He muttered quickly to himself as the dumbwaiter stayed on 29 for a long time. He was beginning to worry that Dom had passed out when the lift suddenly lifted downward. A frightened and angry Zuda kicked and shouted at him.

Newg had to fight with him before he could get a good hold on his leg and pull him out of the dumbwaiter. Zuda coughed and growled on the deck. Newg sent the dumbwaiter up one more time for Dom to get in if she could.

"Holy shit Newg." Zuda finally spoke drunk and tired. "It feels like I've been tossed around by a Titan."

"Yeah?" Newg said not taking his eyes off the LED display. "Was Dom okay when she put you inside?"

"I don't know man, fuck cares?"

"I do, dumbass." Newg looked down incredulously at Zuda.

"Man..." Zuda tried to crawl up onto his knees, "bitch was always getting in my way. Easier to get into Fairwyn's pants now."

Newg growled and grabbed Zuda by the collar of his shirt. "I'm gonna let that go since you're not in your right mind but you say that shit again, I will kick your fucking ass out the airlock."

"I'd like to see you try!" Zuda croaked and grinned.

Newg dropped the drunk Pilot with a loud thud and began looking for a way back up to the next deck. Zuda cursed and yelled at him but Noughton ignored him. Being a Pilot was like being a part of fraternity of sorts. You're always there for the other guy.

He hurried out of the storage area and out into a main hallway. A crowd had gathered of both MARDET and crew working on giving breathing masks and assisting injuries. Newg spotted Fairwyn amongst the MARDET and forced his way over.

"Ma'am, Pilot Noughton. I've got a friend up there."

Fairwyn studied his face for a moment. "Oh right, Ramirez's squad. Everything's fine, it was just a down filter. We're sorting it out now."

"Fine?" Noughton shook his head. "People were trapped in the bar! My friend is trapped in there!"

Doubt casted over Fairwyn's face. Her eyes flicked back and forth over Noughton. "Dalton." she said tilting her head to talk to a MARDET behind her.

"Yes, Ma'am." Dalton leaned in.

"Get a pack of rebreathers and Johnson's squad up here on the double. Noughton, did you say?"

"Mhm." Noughton nodded.

"How many people were in the bar?"

"I don't know," Noughton answered ignoring her comment, "a lot. Maybe, I dunno thirty or more."

Fairwyn bit back a worried expression and looked towards the ladder to the deck above. Noughton thought she looked really worried or reluctant. Dalton and Johnson's squad footsteps approached.

"How many rebreathers do you have?" Fairwyn asked Dalton.

"Got about fifteen, Ma'am. A whole pack."

"Gonna need another pack pronto. There's about thirty people trapped in the bar." Fairwyn informed her impromptu rescue team. "A lot of the crew might be in critical condition."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Johnson replied on behalf of his team.

"Good." Fairwyn turned to Noughton. "Where was your friend, Newt?"

"Behind the bar by the dumbwaiter."

"Okay, grab a rebreather. You're coming with us Pilot."

"Copy that." Noughton took a rebreather from Dalton.

"Alright, let's move out." She motioned for Johnson's team to follow her.

Fairwyn's MARDET team quickly marched up the ladder to the next deck. Lamps attached to their armor illuminated the way in the ominous dim yellow light. The halls were deserted as if people had just picked up and left, which Noughton hoped was true. The thought of Dom choking out on the floor alone made him anxious.

He tried to hurry their approach by pushing in front of the lead MARDET. Noughton impatiently wished he had his jumpkit on when he went to work out. Being able to wall run would've been faster. A hand grabbed his shoulder and Newg quickly snapped to see who it was. Fairwyn looked concerned beneath her rebreather.

"We have to be careful. There might be other people trapped we don't know about." She told him.

"Then look for them." Noughton snapped.

Fairwyn let go of his shoulder and Newg began to run in the direction of the bar. After a moment, he heard a set of footfalls behind him and saw that Dalton was following him. Slung over his shoulder was one of the rebreather packs. That was probably a smart idea but getting to Dom was more important now.

The two reached the outside area of the bar. Around the entrance were wide halls that branched laterally the length of the ship. If only the people inside hadn't tried to force themselves through the porthole, there would've been plenty of room.

A faint movement from the cluster in front of the door reminded Noughton and he quickly vaulted over them. He landed in a roll and braced himself against a table. Next, he slid across the bar and landed on a strewn bottle, smashing it. He hurried past the vaguely familiar signage until he nearly crashed into Dom's body.

"Dom!" Noughton knelt down and ripped off his rebreather and put the mask over Dom's face. The atmosphere in the room was gone and Noughton had hold his breath. Dom still wasn't breathing and worried, Noughton brought the mask back for a quick breath and then put it back over Dom.

Suddenly the yellow lights were replaced by the regular lights and the recyclers began to hum again. Noughton tried to laugh, relieved that the air was going to flow again. He brought the mask back to him again and then back over Dom but this time strapped it over her head and leveled her body onto the floor. He pressed down on her chest trying to get her lungs to push air into her heart.

Sweat dripped down his forehead over his nose but Noughton kept pressing until at last Dom made a breathy gasp. A few more presses and Noughton fell back exhausted. Dom swallowed air from the mask until she sat up and pulled the thing off from her face. She coughed and patted her own chest before her breathing became regular.

"You good?" Noughton weakly grinned.

"No?" Dom struggled to speak and Noughton chuckled tiredly. "I think you bruised my ribs."

"I hate hospitals." Newg complained.

"Yeah, yeah." Dom said bored watching the medical staff pass by their room for entertainment.

"Perdon, I'm looking for my team?" Noughton heard Ramirez's voice.

"Over there, sir." Soneone answered.

"Gracias." A moment or two later, Ramirez appeared at the porthole to their room.

"Hey Sarge." Noughton sat up from his bed as Dom waved weakly.

"You guys okay?" Their Squad Leader asked closing the door.

"Can't wait to leave, sir." Noughton said.

"Resting easy." Dom gave the Sarge a shrug as best she could.

"Bien. I came by to update you guys on the going ons after the incident."

" _Incident_?" Newg said with disbelief. "More like a disaster."

"Llámalo como quieras, Newg. Officially that's the nomenclature. So, from now on, es an incident, si?"

"Yes, sir."

"Following the incident, the _Huntsman's_ been pulled to escort us to Fort Custer-By-The-Belt as planned to make sure we have support should something else happen again. From there, we'll link up with the CFRV Explorer Two to retrieve the intel and if it looks actionable, we might even take a look."

Dom nodded.

"Sir," Newg interrupted, "there were a lot injuries. Did everyone make it out okay?"

Ram clicked his tongue. "Three people died I'm afraid. That's the fucked up part. Whoever did the filter failure QSF'ed bad. I'm actually on my way to see the Captain about it."

"Three people..." Noughton repeated.

"It's lucky we got our suits on. There's no reason that failure should've been anywhere near that many people but it does make it look like a real accident. Either way, keep your helmets and gear on at all times from now on."

"Is that necessary, sir?" Dom said through gritted teeth, still in some pain.

"If we look paranoid, it sends a better message than being in our skivvies like we're on holiday, si?"

"That's it. We just pretend?" Noughton said offended.

"Newg, you're used to being a shit taker," Ramirez said referring to when Noughton used to be a Grunt. "but you're shit shover now too. That means when shit comes your way, you get to throw it onto someone else. In this case, Bish shoved shit onto our boss Droz, which he shoved onto us, and we shove down the line. Those that died, I'm pissed about it too, but that ain't my shit to shove. Mi Los Mejores, that's my responsibility. So I'll shove shit onto someone else for that. Comprende, Newg?"

"Is that what we're supposed to tell the dead, we shove shit?" Noughton said bitterly.

He regretted saying it as soon as it came out. Ramirez's face was awash in quiet fury at being disrespected. "Drop and give me twenty – no, thirty, Pilot."

"Yes, sir!" Noughton quickly complied with his Sargent and began doing push ups on the hospital deck.

Ramirez squatted down next to him and enunciated each word so as to be clear. "I understand you've gone through an ordeal so I will forget your remark. However, let me remind you, _Newg_ , shit gets shoved downwards, not up. Those people that died – are not our responsibility nor should it be yours. The intel we're after could end the war and all these people can go back home to a liberated Frontier. Suena bien?"

"Affirmative, sir!" Noughton grunted.

"Muy bien! Then get back in bed and rest up, Pilot." Ramirez didn't wait for them to salute and left the room.

"Dumbass." Dom told him after the Sarge had left.

"I know alright, fuck! I know I shouldn't of said it but people died Dom. People who shouldn't have."

"Take the Sarge's advice and worry about your own shit."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Was it part an op we planned? No. Droz told us to be on board, while Bish made the arrangements to get us off system."

"No. I don't accept that Bish would make plan like this."

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Fact is, it happened and like Ram said, that intel could end the war. So shut up and shove shit."

Newg got the message and thrusted his head back onto the uncomfortable pillow. "I _hate_ hospitals."

"Yeah, yeah."


	20. Chapter 18 - Corbyn

_Happy Halloween! Some of you may have noticed that the years have changed recently. That was due to a Flying Teacup video I stumbled across that covered the Apex Legends Timeline and how it affected Titanfall 2's. In it was Caustic's birth year (2685) but as Teacup pointed out, at the time of TF2 Cooper would be 16, which he really doesn't look like. He also suggests that Apex and Titanfall have separate timelines which could resolve the difference. So, anyways, the reason for this whole preamble is to say, I'm so happy that Titanfall's universe has a discernible year now. And while 2698 fits the established lore, I may change it to 2707 (2687+25-5) to make Cooper's age more in line with TF2's. I've always tried to write these stories as a way for people to A) understand the games better in sort of a novel format and B) tell it in an interesting way that pushes me as a writer. I will get back to updating Banners at some point in the future to retroactively make it more accurate too but work and personal life make it less of a priority right now. Sorry, I know that was a lot longer than usual! ^^'_

 _As always, thanks so for reading, fav'ing, following, reviewing, what have you. It really justifies my insanity. Cheers!_

* * *

"Corbyn's War"

Freeport System

Interplanetary Space

2698, November 29th

* * *

The opening stages of Snowroof hadn't been the spectacular success that Corbyn had hoped for but smashing into the rear line of the Militia's First Fleet had been a wild success. Caught while transporting supplies, their guns were facing away from the planet and the skillful pilots of Corbyn's task force had exploited that opening to the fullest. In an additional boast of naval expertise, Corbyn plunged the _Gibraltar_ into Harmony's low orbit and eliminated it's few AOD cannons and severed it's communications beacon. It had been the largest naval battle since Columbia and it had only lasted 10 minutes.

In the proceeding hours since then, his task force of 3 carriers, 2 merchant marines, and his battleship moved at impulse speed towards the Artemisium shipyard. The carrier air wings were being refueled and rearmed for the next battle to come. Graves' fleet was now probing for weaknesses along the perimeter of the shipyard. Dance had reported so far that the "ferry" system had been working but that hardpoints often slipped back and forth between attacker and defender.

The assaulting Militia fleet had in so far maintained a safe distance away from the AOD guns sending in only dropships to try and make a secure landing zone. What Corbyn couldn't understand as he studied the board was why Graves was still pressing his advantage on Artemisium. A feasible plan of action would be to peel off a part of his force to attack Corbyn and relieve Harmony. Yet that hadn't happened. For hours, fighters and gunnery stations had been on high alert and the move to stay on impulse was directly tied to an anticipated attack by Graves' Fleet.

Corbyn finally looked up from the holo-board and pinched his eyelids shut to try and rid the dryness from his eyes. Despite how much he looked at the holo-board he felt like a promoted rook separated from it's king across it's board.

"What's the refuel status?" Corbyn asked wearily of a Liaison.

"Our status is at ninety-eight percent, sir. The _Eta Carinae_ is at ninety-four percent. The _Trifid_ is at ninety-six percent. _Helix_ is also ninety-four percent and both merchant marines are on standby."

"Good, good." Corbyn collected his tea cup from the holo-board and took a sip. That was the problem with modern Naval warfare: battles that took 10 minutes still required hours of refueling time.

Among the officers he'd assembled the next phase of the attack was still being hotly debated. Dance, of course, argued for the Task Force to jump next to his location to shore up defenses. Stupoff instead argued for a swift exit out of the system. Corbyn wanted Graves dead but as the refueling continued on, the chance of another surprise attack was slipping away as Graves came closer and closer to a break through at Artemisim. Corbyn was aware of the real danger of trapping his force in a poor position.

The reality of his position was now two problems: how to stop Graves and how to save Dance. Ever since the rear line ambush had ended, Corbyn had pored over solutions to that very problem. All of his projections were based on the principle that Graves wouldn't fight, choosing to save his Fleet's strength. What he had achieved at Harmony was still a tactical victory in the short run but what Corbyn continued to strain over was why Graves continued to press his assault on Artemisium. There had to be a reason for it and yet he couldn't see anything that justified Graves' confidence. Was his Task Force simply not large enough? No, he'd destroyed ten of Graves' ships over Harmony and sliced his main communications. That had to be a threat. There weren't any other large Militia fleets, so then why?

Then an idea popped in Corbyn's head. An idea so horrible, his stomach turned and beads of sweat collected at his hairline. There couldn't be another Militia fleet out there, could there? Quickly, he pulled the holo-board view out of the Harmony system view and to one encapsulating most of the Frontier and brought up all known attacks by the Militia 1st Fleet and then those by other terrorist groups with ships, pirates and mercenaries essentially. Could all those supplemental attacks be the work of another Militia fleet?

"E-Spec?" Corbyn called to the Electromagnetic Spectrum Analysis Officer. "Are our scopes clean within our ZO. No jump signatures?"

The E-Spec officer looked up from his station a little surprised to be asked but then nodded the all clear. No, something was wrong. Corbyn could now feel it through his entire body. Careful, cautious Graves does not act without confidence unless he had a plan.

"Comms, contact General Dance immediately and confirm the position of Graves' Fleet now!"

"Aye, sir!" The comms officer got to work.

Tanvir flipped into the tactical channel between the carriers. "Gentlemen, are your E-Spec scopes clear?"

After a moment both Francis and Alexi reported they were as did the Captain of the _Eta_. "What's the trouble Corbyn?" Francis asked.

"We may have just stepped into a prowler trap." Corbyn answered cryptically.

"What do you mean – prowler trap?" Stupoff asked.

Corbyn quickly tapped commands into his holo-board and then transmitted the information over to the other Admirals and Captains. "I'm waiting for confirmation from Dance on the position of Graves' Fleet but see here."

Corbyn outlined on his holo-board where the First Fleet was.

"If you make another opposite around harmony, we've been moving right towards the middle."

On the holo-board, he created another similar line. The board now had two layered IMC/Militia lines throughout Freeport. Corbyn felt as if another Shogi player was about to place their board next to his current game.

"Kor'bon," Stupoff said after a moment, "is there any intelligence to suggest that Graves could do such a thing?"

Corbyn choose his answer carefully. "You had access to the same data as I."

"Hm, I thought so. Perhaps a mercenary element or a collection of armed merchants but I don't believe their will be any such aggression."

"Now Stupoff," Trevelyan interupted, "I've known Corbyn a while now. His intuition on such things is rarely off. Perhaps from this Coalition, we've heard so little about?"

"I couldn't say but my impression was that it was a political movement for governance. Not nearly as dangerous as the Militia threat." Corbyn said.

Stupoff growled. "If this operation is to continue, I want additional payment as well as a hazard bonus for my services."

Trevelyan muttered something unseemly.

Corbyn smiled. The man was utterly greedy and Corbyn had some respect for it. Though considering the circumstances, he'd be disappointed if Stupoff didn't ask. "We can discuss that more intimately after Graves' is defeated."

"Hmm, that does not work so well for me. If you die, how will I collect payment from you?"

"If you die," Corbyn answered, "how will I get my credits back?"

Stupoff chuckled greedily, "I'm thinking that's a problem for me to worry about."

"My aren't you a gannet, Stupoff." Francis remarked.

"Of course! It's the best way to survive on the Frontier. Credits can get you lots of things."

"Yes that is true," Corbyn said curtly, "but you are forgetting something greater than credits, Stupoff. What do you think we are doing out here? Fighting a war for the people of the Core Systems? Come now, what do you take us for? No, we're here for something much greater – power."

After a long moment Stupoff spoke, "Ahh, I see now. The Gala, Dance, this was all a political grab?"

"Something like that."

"Political power does not interest me." Stupoff said.

"Then I can make you very wealthy. I know your reputation as an Admiral of Fortune but do you know mine?"

"Yes, I've heard rumors of Corbyn's Pocket. It's why I accepted your offer in the first place."

"Good then you know I take very good care of my friends."

"Admiral!" the E-Spec swung in his seat abruptly. "Multiple jump signatures just off Harmony."

Corbyn raised his head towards the E-Spec. "Is it Graves?"

"Unknown, sir. A total of twenty-seven contacts in all."

"Or it's a second Fleet. Do you see it too Stupoff?" Corbyn said morbidly assured.

Stupoff reluctantly agreed. "Yes... I see it too. Damn, we're out numbered four to one."

"Seems I was right about the prowler trap. Admirals, let's put this conversation on hold for the time being and set about dismantling this."

"What's your plan, Kor'bon?" A now more compliant Stupoff asked.

"Turn our ships about to one-three-five and engage the enemy." Corbyn ordered.

"You want to face them head on?" Trevelyan asked stunned.

"If we can't properly fight Graves, then I'll settle for beating his new reinforcements." Corbyn cocked his head towards the E-Spec. "Identify those ships as soon as possible. Order all hands, maximum alert."

"Looks like the day has just got a little longer..." Francis quipped.

"Indeed, we need to deploy all our fighters immediately, keep a fourth of them in reserve to screen any attackers. The _Gibraltar_ will take point to handle any fighters. Our fallback position will be the shipyard, secondary position will be the Alaska System. Comms, Tell the _Verner_ and _Stalwart_ to form the axis of a diamond. Francis, put the _Helix_ in rear, with _Trifid_ and _Eta_ forming the flanks. Alright, let's get to work."

As the Titan War proved, space's vast openness meant attacks could come from all directions and a single axis of defense was useless. Larger battle groups formed different variations but the diamond formation was simple in concept. The "tips" would be covered by the merchant marine m-25A turrets and his battleship out front in the "front" of the diamond would provide cover with it's array of firepower.

"Admiral, The _Verner_ is requesting confirmation on the last order." The Comms officer relayed.

"Tell the Captain of the _Verner_ to put his vessel beneath the axis of the _Gibraltar_ and flip one-hundred-and-eighty degrees opposite the _Stalwart_. If they can't do it, find someone on that ship that can." Corbyn hissed impatiently.

"Aye, sir!" The Comms officer nodded and began relaying Corbyn's message.

"Admiral, putting signature positions on the board – now. Three will be coming out of jump inside the Arkansas Drift."

Corbyn refocused the holo-board onto the drift around Harmony. The field of debris that was the Militia's rearline was named after the _MCS Arkansas_ as it was the first ship to destroyed by _Helix's_ carrier wing. As the E-Spec said, three jumps were landing right inside the drift. Whoever they were, their choice of position was certainly poor.

"Signatures are within size of possible Birmingham class Militia ships, sir." E-Spec continued. "Standby, arriving in six, five, four, three..."

Corbyn watched the board as new fleet flashed in around the Earth-like planet of Harmony. Each jump was not part of any formation or pattern that Corbyn could see. As he analyzed the incoming ships, two collided with debris and fizzled off the board. _Amateurs._

"No IMC formation is that sloppy." He commented dryly.

"Quite." Trevelyan said.

"Sir, two destroyed in the drift, the third lightly damaged! On board observers identifying ships now!" E-Spec told him.

"Good. I want to know if there is an _Annapolis_ -class ship with them quickly."

"No capital ship identified at this time." E-Spec responded.

"Tankers? Long distance support ships of any kind?" Corbyn said increasingly interested.

"Not as of yet, sir. They're still analyzing and will update the board in real time."

"Corbyn," Stupoff asked, "what is it?"

"It's not a true fleet. Lacking cohesion and means to resupply. That must mean..."

"Yes, what?" Francis asked with impatience.

"Graves is acting under pressure..." Corbyn trailed off. _Throwing in a fleet against our position may mean he intends to bludgeon us quickly to achieve results. Could Graves be adapting or did we already fall into a well placed trap?_ Corbyn had a thought that his planning program was ineffective but then quickly realized that the error was his own. His priority had been catching Graves and the appearance of a second fleet was unknown factor he hadn't anticipated.

"Pressure?" Francis said befuddled.

 _So annoying_ , Corbyn thought, _to be surrounded by people who cannot grasp what is in front of them._ "Yes, Graves is making no attempt to deviate from the shipyard thus he must be under pressure to take it. This second fleet is meant to brush us aside as they don't have another capital class ship to refuel."

"You're sure?" Francis asked.

"Because it's what I did." Corbyn said half to Francis and half to himself. "All ships, once the enemy fleet is within bomber range equip the Goblins with torpedos with fighter escort. Use the drift for cover and strike at targets of opportunity."

"Kor'bon, what of Dance?"

Tanvir sighed. "With circumstances what they are, we're more likely to leave the system. That being said, I don't intend to leave him behind."

"That's crazy. One ship against a whole fleet."

"I put him there Stupoff, it's my personal duty to get him out."

"Gentlemen, perhaps another time. The enemy has entered bomber range." Trevelyan informed them.

"Hmph." Stupoff scoffed unconvinced.

Corbyn saw as much as he looked down at the board. Already the _Helix_ had begun deploying it's fighters as well as the _Eta_ and _Trifid_. Two of the ships were identified as _MCS Marinus Willet_ and _MCS Charles Thompson_. An unusual naming convention but he could mull the names over after he survived the attack.

Hundreds of kilometers apart, the two opposing carrier wings began to engage inside the drift as his bombers and fighters tangled with the enemy AA and Hornets. Minutes went by before the first hit was scored by one of the torpedo wielding Goblins. It had struck the _MCS Charles Peale_ on the port side towards the stern. The ARC torpedo damaged and cut several systems but the ship's engines were still working. Then moments later, another Goblin escorted by two Phantoms was able to disable the _MCS Benjamin Rush_. Still propelled forward by it's momentum it began drifting out of line in an arcing course towards the void. The _Peale_ was struck again by a strafing run this time over it's bridge before the Phantom was shot down and crashed into the topside of the ship. By some miraculous oversight on the _Peale's_ design, the topside deck decompressed and began to splinter the ship in half. The ensuing fireball ballooned out smoke concealing the final result of the damage. Though, severe damage on the scale left very little to the imagination.

The next victim was the _MCS Matthew Phripp_. A window opened up after the carnage caused by the _Peale_ and three Goblins slipped in and delivered six torpedos into the port and stern of the vessel. Two of the Goblins were shot down by defending Hornets but the damage was done. The _Phripp's_ lights went out on the port side and a follow up strafing run by Phantoms, tore a hole inside the ship decompressing the hull within seconds.

It was an excellent first engagement on the Militia Fleet with four ships already out of action. Several fighters and dropships were returning to refuel and rearm. On the Militia's right flank, several ships began break what loose coordination they had and three rushed to engage Corbyn's diamond. The holo-board identified them as the _MCS Thomas Young, MCS Joseph Warren,_ and _MCS_ _Isiah Thomas_. Almost as soon as the three ships were in fighter range, they launched a sortie of Hornets. A squadron of these broke off from their group and pounced on any returning fighters that they could catch. Two returning Goblins were destroyed and one Phantom was hunted down and fired upon by five Hornets. The barbarity of the display sickened Corbyn.

"Can we pull off a squadron from defense and cover our returning fighters?" He asked into the tactical channel. "And seal these shutters now!"

One of the defensive squadrons from _Helix's_ carrier wing 27, pulled off and intercepted the Militia aircraft. A few minutes later, the main group of Militia fighters arrived and began dogfighting with the task force's defenders. Chaos erupted around the diamond as AA fire trailed off all around the task force. Within the dim glow of the lights as the battle raged outside, Corbyn kept his eyes fixed on the holo-board watching as the battle unfolded. Several ships on the Militia's left flank were taking a beating but any small amount of fighters sent his way could very well threaten his entire task force.

Another Militia ship began to turn into the Arkansas drift. Damage to it's starboard engines caused it to sway portside and towards the cloud of the _Peale_. Trajectory indicated that it wouldn't collide with the actual wreckage but Corbyn hoped it would.

"We can't possibly hold them back for long, eventually they'll come in close." Corbyn spoke into the tactical channel.

"Agreed, we should relocate to the secondary rally point." Stupoff suggested.

"It's too soon for that." Corbyn dismissed the idea.

"If we jump to Artemisium we could be trapped! The Alaska Home Fleet at New Anchorage at least would be able to assist us."

Corbyn knew that any assistance from the Loyalist Yisv would harm Francis' chance at Secretary and therefore threaten his direct plans for the Frontier. How was he supposed to stop Stupoff from seeking what would normally be rational advice?

"You see old boy," Francis spoke up, "Dorsen soiled our reputation. If we are to prove we're not as feeble as he was, this is something we have to do without the others. Plus, there is the credits of course."

"What do you mean – credits?" Stupoff asked skeptically.

"Didn't Tanny tell you? Why my good man, we're out here to become heroes. And heroes win elections."

"Elections?"

"Tell him Tanny." Francis chuckled.

Corbyn winced as Trevelyan used his nick name in public but he had to admit that Trevelyan's normally cavalier attitude may have found an opening. Slowly, he cleared his throat. "That's correct, Francis is making a bid for Naval Secretary with mine and Dance's backing."

"Dance from the Gala?"

"Correct." Corbyn confirmed.

"How... So quickly..." Stupoff suddenly became lost for words.

"Stupoff, I'd be happy to talk over the politics with you but suffice it to say, Yisv is a political opponent of ours."

"Explain, how Yisv is an opponent of the Navy?" Stupoff said beginning to sound frustrated.

"Not the Navy, no, but to Trevelyan. Yisv supports Amherst who has us holding the line instead engaging Graves directly."

"But Amherst took his orders directly from..."

"Yes," Corbyn interrupted Stupoff before he could say Spyglass' name, "and in turn got emergency powers and did nothing with them. New ranks, more credits all the while Graves and his Militia run rampant on the Frontier."

"It's not that we're Dorsenists Stupoff," Francis added, "it's that if we directly challenge the policy we'll look like it. We have to have something to show for ourselves first – an alternative."

"And what does Dance get out of this?"

They were really into it now. _So be it._ "It's no secret that Dorsen's views are widely held by many of the lower enlisted in the Colonial Marines," Corbyn stated, "as they fear their jobs will be taken over by Spectres. Dance in administrative control will help assuage those concerns."

"I see," Stupoff paused, "then if I'm to be _accidentally_ implicated in a Dorsenist conspiracy my fee just went up. Hazard pay, you see."

Trevelyan began to disagree but Corbyn chuckled. What better response from the "Admiral of Fortune" then to expect more credits? "Of course! Foolish of us to presume you'd not be interested in the political reality but I'm pleased you'll stick with us a little longer."

"Yes, I think it's now becoming worth my while. Though Kor'bon, two fleets is still ambitious."

"I won't leave more Marines to die in this miserable system like Auchenburg. We'll engage for as long as we can and evacuate but not before extracting Dance."

"Admiral!" A Liaison interupted him. "The enemy fleet in front of us is disengaging."

"Really? That's brilliant. Let's waste no time then. All ships, make ready for jump inside the perimeter of the shipyard." Corbyn changed frequency to the shipyard control. "Artemisium Control, come in. This is the _Gibraltar._ "

The connection was weak and strained but remained steady. "This is Artemisium Control. We read you _Gibraltar_."

"Be advised, the task force is prepping to jump inside the shipyard."

"Negative, _Gibraltar_ , there's no clear air space at this time."

"Then give me coordinates for one!" Corbyn demanded.

"Standby, _Gibraltar._ "

Corbyn not waiting for Artemisium Control to get back to him, began searching for his own secure airspace to jump the entire task force. As of yet, the Militia hadn't fully encircled the shipyard and a clear jump point existed between the moon and the planet Leto. After plotting the jump point, he let the holo-board do the rest of the work in selecting suitable individual points for all six of the ships.

"Control, nav point has been plotted at coordinates two-six-zero-point-eight-two-one."

"Uh, roger, _Gibraltar_. Please advise, there isn't a port available for you while the _Falkland_ is in dry dock."

"We have a second battleship? Why wasn't I informed?"

"There's no functional weapons in place yet, Director Wolsely didn't believe it would be beneficial for..."

"Do it's engines work?" Corbyn spoke over the control.

"Yes, sir but it has no environmental systems..."

"Perfect, begin prepping it's engines immediately."

"But sir," the control man began to contest.

"Do it – now! Or I'll have your superior execute you under Article Twelve."

"Understood, Admiral! We'll prep the _Falkland_ right away!"

"Very good, Control." Corbyn made a tight lipped smile.

Chapter 17, Article 12 of the IMC employee contract that pertained to clauses under which circumstances an employee could be "terminated" for violating their contract. While the wording of some of those clauses were vague, many interpreted them litterally. _Thank you Hammond_. Corbyn thought. _For giving me the foundation to control my own empire._

"Militia Fleet has regrouped, Admiral. They're attempting a full movement."

"Fuel status?" Corbyn asked.

"Green." A Liaison informed him.

"All ships," Corbyn spoke into the tactical channel, "recover as many fighters as quickly as you can then jump to the nav point. _Gibraltar_ will provide cover for two minutes."

"That's cutting it close isn't it?" Trevelyan said.

"Did you know that Wolsely forgot to mention the _Falkland._ " Corbyn answered instead.

"The _Falkland_?" Francis replied surprised. "It's online?"

"No, just the engines but it's more than enough for our purposes."

"Our purposes?" Trevelyan repeated, still not seeing what Corbyn meant.

"Yes," Corbyn watched as the _Falkland's_ engines came online, "we're about to take Graves off the board."


	21. Chapter 19 - Bish

_Hello everyone! I hope you've all been doing well? It's a tad overdue this month but better something I'm happy with than something I'm not. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

"The Siege of Artemisium"

Freeport System

Artemis

2698, November 29th

* * *

Everyone was nearing their breaking point. For the last ten hours, the Militia had been trying to capture the shipyard. Several times they'd come tantalizingly close only to have their victory taken from them. Slowly the frustration and tension was mounting, only mitigated by Graves' constant vigil by the holo-board directing the battle then jumping into frequencies directly with Squad Leaders. At this point, Graves' personal resolve and steadfastness was the only thing holding the whole assault together.

The defenses of Artemisium were fragile. Graves had made the Militia's objective to secure a single outpost. The Field Commander knew that once they had at least one AOD cannon every ship inside Artemisium was vulnerable. To make this effort count, Graves deployed their forces in a localized area to maximize their advantage. Somehow the IMC had countered this attack by using a new tactic. The IMC were using their Widows, a Titan recovery craft, to cart their Pilots from one outpost to another. It was something the Militia had very few in supply. The lack of Titan support on the ground was the Militia's greatest disadvantage.

Bish, for his part, was also deeply frustrated. The new OSET encryption was proving harder to crack. Every valuable minute he was able to get into the system was measured in lives. Too many for Bish's taste. Even so, the siege's success was essential. Not only to the Militia, but for the liberation of the Freeport system, and to prove to the Frontier that the Coalition could stand up the IMC.

"This is Hammerhead five-six," one of the Pilot squads reported in, "Icepick is in place, Bish!"

"I gotcha five-six, standby."

Bish got to work trying to open the code as quick as he could. His fingers slipped on his keyboard from sweat and the code he was writing got screwed up. Growling, he quickly deleted the line and rewrote it. Damnit, people were counting on him. Graves, Sarah, Hammerhead. The _Revere_. Bish tensed and stopped typing. Before his mind could wander too far, he pushed the thoughts out of his mind and returned to hacking OSET II.

"Contacts!" Hammerhead called out over the comms. "Protect the hardpoint! We need to buy Bish more time!"

"Any Pilots in the AO assist Hammerhead." Graves ordered calmly.

 _How could he be so calm at a time like this?_ Bish wiped his head. He'd done this before on Victor and again on Leviathan and during the Demeter battle. _Yeah, except those battles hadn't lasted over an hour._ Bish lamented.

"Wilkes is down!" Five-six yelled. "York, cover his sector!"

"Copy that!" Another Pilot said.

 _Validating Operator Credentials... Denied. Auth Code BISH-FU not found_

"Damnit, c'mon." Bish mumbled and typed in a different program.

e _xec override_remote__

 _Validating Operator Credentials... Denied. Auth Code BISH-FU not accepted_

"No... come on damnit." Bish growled.

Another member of Hammerhead went down. The amount of gunfire was picking up. Bish hurriedly retyped a new line of code and sent the package.

 _exec override_maintenance__

 _Validating Operator Credentials... Denied. Auth Code IMC-SUX not accepted_

"This is Hammerhead five-six, my team's KIA! I repeat KIA!"

Bish quickly tried to send in a different package.

 _exec override_mainfrane__

 _error override_mainfrane_ not found!_

"Fuck!" Bish yelled at his laptop as he jumped from his seat pissed. Over the radio, Hammerhead five-six was overrun. A second later a message notified him that the terminal was lost. In a flash of anger Bish almost went to smash it but Graves gripped him by his shoulders.

"Commander!"

Bish stared vacantly at his laptop's screen. The word "mainfrane" borrowing itself into his mind. A costly mistake on top of a heap of failures. Bish shut his eyes tight.

"Listen to me," Graves said gripping his shoulder tighter, "keep it together."

"Sir, the _California_ requests permission to draw AOD fire to allow the _Minnesota_ to drop Titans." The Comm-O relayed.

"Denied." Graves said. "We need every ship. Order all troops to dig in and regroup, we'll find another way into that shipyard."

"Yes, sir... Sir! Urgent message from the _Wolcott!_ "

"Put it on the board, Comm-O."

Commodore Lansford appeared on the holo-board. His usual sea Captain face more haggard and grim than before. "Field Commander."

"Go ahead, Lansford."

"Sir, the IMC ships are making ready to jump. My fighters won't be able to reach them in time to stop them."

"Understood, Commodore. How's your fleet?"

"Bloodied." Lansford admitted. "I lost five ships before we had time to react. The way they anticipated us – I've never seen anything like it, sir."

Graves made a frown. "Interesting. Their original attack was meant to catch us by surprise by Harmony. Next they turn their fleet right into yours and attack."

"That's crazy right? Cause it sounds crazy." Bish said. He felt calmer now but could still hear an edge in his voice.

"No, they used the drift to minimize sensor contact then used torpedos. Used our own tactic against us."

"Exactly," Lansford agreed, "did you see those merchant marines too, sir?"

"Yes, we encountered them in the Marshall System." Graves answered.

"Looks like the 'Demeter Spring' is over. So then who's our 'Hades'?" Lansford asked in reference to the ancient Greek myths the IMC based most of their naming conventions around.

Graves brought up the mysterious IMC battleship on the holo-board and accessed it's model. It's long tiered design looked more like a building than an actual ship.

"Gibraltar." Bish read the name of the ship out loud. "Mean anything to you FC?"

"No... it's not any build project I recognize. Though if it's size is anything to go by, it'll make for a big target. Lansford, how soon will your fleet be able to jump again?"

"Sir, I've got so many retrofitted luxury liners and cargo haulers that our jump time will be closer to a day." Lansford answered grimly. "Not to mention our casualties and repairs."

"Understood. Maintain battle positions until the system is clear of IMC presence."

"Yes, sir. Permission to try and recover our ships? The _Rush_ is still adrift and the _Phripp_ is still salvageable."

"Our rear line was ambushed while we were still transporting supplies and couldn't react in time. I won't make the same mistake again. I'm sorry Commodore, we will do everything we can as soon as the IMC presence is cleared."

"Yes, sir. I understand." Lansford nodded.

"Commodore? Where's the _Huntsman_ and _Paul_ _Revere_?" Graves asked noted the lack of two ships in the Second Fleet.

Bish's gut suddenly tied itself into knots. Lansford looked nonplussed. "Like I said, retrofitted cargo haulers. The _Paul_ _Revere_ suffered a filter accident and had to go for inspection at Fort Custer. I tasked the _Huntman_ as an escort."

"Why wasn't I informed?"

"We were still in strength sir when you tasked us to jump. The accident happened just before the Fleet departed. There hasn't been time to report the issue just yet but you're right. Please accept my apologies."

"No apologies necessary Commodore." Graves folded his arms. "In light of that knowledge, you can task one ship to assist the _Phripp_."

"Thank you, sir."

"Good luck. _Annapolis_ out."

Lansford's image disappeared from the holo-board and was replaced by the system map of Freeport. Graves unfurled his arms and began studying the board. The Field Commander intently studied the board in complete silence and Bish watched not sure exactly what to do. Graves then moved to the keyboard and input a command. The holo-board shifted image to the Montana system, where Fort Custer-by-the-belt was situated.

"Odd." Graves finally said.

"Odd?" Bish repeated.

"Yes," Graves drawled, "why did Lansford send them to Fort Custer?"

"Probably because it has the filter parts the _Revere_ needs?" Bish suggested, even though he knew it did, it still felt like lying to Graves. _He doesn't need to know anything until there's something to say._ Bish justified his actions to himself.

"It probably does. It was a patrol station after all. Filter parts could have been just as easily been gotten at Concord through Kodai. They are the de facto supplier now for the Coalition. How strange."

Bish swallowed. He hadn't anticipated Graves to notice so soon with the battle raging. What if Graves asked him to track comm logs and saw that he had communicated with Lansford and Vabrinski. Shit, what was he gonna say if Graves pulled a ship or two to go after them and bring them back into line?

Bish's wrist-comm beeped. A little startled Bish looked at the incoming message from Emslie. _Thank you Emslie!_ "Hey, go ahead Emslie."

"Sorry to bother you an' all Bish. I heard we pulled back. Is now a good time?"

Bish looked up hesitantly at Graves who was still focused on the board then back down at his wrist-comm. "A good time for what?"

Emslie had prepared the Vanguards in a line inside his workshop. Their leader, Uji something, was next to Emslie going over something on a data tablet. When the elevator door closed, Emslie and Uji looked up and the engineer looked excited.

"Hey Commander!" Emslie grinned. "Been going over the specs with these guys and boy I think we're on to something big here!"

"Big? How's that?"

"A way to take the shipyard, sir." Droz's voice cut in from behind a Titan.

Seeing Droz down here momentarily made Bish worried they'd be found out for going behind Graves' back but then it passed. "Yeah, okay, tell me."

"These Vanguard guys are serious about their Titans," Droz dropped down from a Stryder's leg and clapped his hands to get the dirt off, "Uji there thinks we can strip a couple of these lighter Vanguards down and drop 'em on an LZ like we do Grunts."

"You can do that?" Bish said surprised.

"Sure boss, no sweat." Uji said confidently.

"And without the ability to warpfall, Commander, I think this could work." Droz added confidently.

"We could Titanfall these guys in the same way we did on Persephone. Guide 'em into the drop zone?" Bish suggested.

Droz shook his head. "We could but until we know they're rated properly, the Titans might not make it. Plus none these boys made that kind of drop before. A landing zone works best."

Uji must've seen Bish frown because he took a step forward. "Boss, we pledged to always defend Harmony. That means taking out the IMC where ever they are. So whatever the objective is point us at it. The First won't let you down."

"What do you know about hacking systems?" Bish asked Uji.

"That's Pioneer work, boss. We don't do retrieval ops, we left that to the Bloody Fourth."

"Droz, your knife." Bish held out his hand. Droz supplied his data-knife and Bish held it up to Uji. "It's real simple. Press this here and jam it into a data port. The 'Icepick' will do the rest."

Uji grinned and chuckled. "Wish we'd a few more of these back in the day."

"Why's that?" Bish asked.

"In order to join the Fourth you had to kill a silverback to get his knife. Weren't enough knives to go around, you understand?" Uji's team chuckled.

The chuckling rubbed Bish the wrong way. He handed the data-knife back to Droz. "Captain, make sure that they all get a data-knife. Listen, we lost a lotta lives already trying to get a single objective. Access to the OSET II encryption on Artemisium. Get me that and we can start opening up the IMC to secure the system."

Uji nodded. "We'll get it done Boss."

"No, I mean it." Bish snarled. He hadn't meant to. The lack of sleep was finally hitting him harder than he thought. "There's little in the way of support down there and the IMC are kicking our ass! Meanwhile while we cling to what little ground we got! We _have_ to end this today, do you understand?"

Uji cocked his head back to his crew. "Hey crew, what's our motto?"

"Vanguards lead the way!" They chorused.

"So let's prove it!" Uji turned and raised his fist into the air.

Four Crows with Pilots and the Harmony Vanguards made a low approach to Outpost 192. They hadn't tried for a push on it for a while and Bish hoped that the IMC and their mercenaries hadn't noticed. Captain June of the SRS was already on the ground organizing what few Grunts remained alive from the last assault.

"Annapolis, this is Snake Eyes Eight, we're on fast approach to Oscar One Niner Two."

"Copy Snake Eyes. Good luck." Droz dropped the line.

"Don't need luck, sir. We were born unlucky." The dropship pilot cackled.

Bish eyed the CIC's holo-board as Droz coordinated the drop of their new plan. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he waited for the Vanguards to take one of the towers. The Harmony team had grouped up into two teams of three. One jockey who would Pilot his Stryder and two cowboys, who'd ride it. Bish would've smiled had the ratcheting tension not kept him on edge.

Graves had told him once about the Invasion of Normandy in the Western European Exchange Zone. For centuries it had been the largest land invasion of all time until the Invasion of Europa by the Cetis. According to Graves, getting a foothold was the hardest part of any invasion. Bish cracked his knuckles. _Okay then, let's start with one tower._

Roughly, 10,000 meters out the six Crows were caught by two Phantoms, the latter of which moved to intercept them. The Crow was a sturdy design lasting from the early days of the Titan Wars. It's ability to take damage with it's D-CSAR onboard shield was standard for all dropships. Just slightly less maneuverable than the interceptors chasing it.

Snake Eyes 3 and 4, the ones carrying the Vanguards and their Titans just barely were able to offload their cargo in the pursuing chase. June's archers on the ground were able to send out a few rockets at the Phantoms as the six Vanguard Pilots moved the pieces under the cover of the outpost's observatory.

"This is Uji, Vanguard in position."

"Copy, Vanguard." Droz said.

"We're setting up boss, take about ten minutes."

"Ten mikes," Droz corrected him.

"Aye, aye." Thought it sounded more like _yeah, yeah._

The deployment had caught the IMC's attention and dispatched one of their Widows with a Titan mercenary on board. Bish watched as the 3d projection landed on the far side of the IMC controlled portion of the outpost.

"Vanguard, IMC have dispatched a Titan to your outpost, copy?"

"Just one Titan?" Uji said with a grunt as he worked on getting the Titans ready. "I'm a little insulted."

Droz cupped a hand over his wrist-comm. "Do we have a lock on which mercenary they sent?"

A Liaison grabbed one of the camera frames and enhanced it. "No idea, sir."

The absolute tension Bish felt was projected to his fingertips. Each one seemingly ready to pounce on a key any second. He swallowed and licked away the dryness on his lips. Once the Vanguard got into the control center, he had to be ready to hack.

An Atlas Titan stepped off the Widow and pulled a 40MM cannon off it's back. The IMC Titan then began moving towards the observatory through the cannon control building. Droz updated the Vanguard team and June's Militia troopers began preparing themselves to fight a Titan. Except the Titan never appeared. Seconds went by and each passing one made it more strange the Titan hadn't appeared. Silence filled the airwaves as everyone went tense on the ground awaiting the fight.

"Anyone got eyes on?" June asked her team.

A series of replies called back negative.

"Foxtrot," June demanded. "Do you have eyes on? Report!"

No reply. Captain June immediately began getting another squad in to check out Foxtrot's position as Droz began urging the Stryder teams to quickly get on the move. There was nothing Bish could do but watch.

"This is Bravo," A Militiaman reported, "Foxtrot's been wasted. No sign of entry. Multiple – Aghhhh!"

"Kraber! Kraber!" Another soldier shouted before the whole channel went wild with shouts and gunfire.

June's voice tried to shout over the rest of them to restore order but Bravo went silent. The last sound was Bravo 8's helmet being broken or rolling off what remained of their head. Bish couldn't tell exactly and didn't really want to know either.

"Stryder Two is up!" Uji reported. Stryder Two carried a bandolier of thermite casings for the thermite launcher on it's back and held the XO-16 aloft as it's free arm held onto the wall of the observatory.

"We can't wait around for Stryder One, get that team moving now." Droz ordered.

"Payback time. Eh cowboy?" Uji said to someone on his team.

Meanwhile, June's perimeter was being opened up. The Grunts were being decimated and the new SRS Pilots pushed into the delivery building to flush out who it was. Cobra Squad tossed in EMP grenades first, then the cloaked Pilots went in second.

Cobra's Fireteam One pushed downstairs from the armory, while Fireteam Two swept the second floor. Something metallic rolled across the floor and Cobra Six had only a second to react before the grenade went off. Cobra Three in front of him, who had been cloaked took a silenced Kraber round after the impact of the grenade broke his cloaking.

"There!" Droz shouted.

Bish craned his head over the holo-board to see an IMC Pilot roll out from the second floor of the delivery building. Just before they hit the ground the IMC Marines holed up in the fire control building began laying down fire all over the second floor. From the brief glimpse of the Pilot, it was easy to spot the one shoulder decorated with part of a Flyer's jawbone.

"Nomad Thirteen," Droz seethed.

"Thirteen?" Bish said.

"Yeah, they call him the gray man. Showed up one day on Quay and joined up with the IMC leaning faction about the time Graves turned over the _Solaris._ Joined Nomad as a bounty hunter or mercenary after that."

"The _Solaris_?" Bish whistled.

"Yeah, when I interrogated Captain Gates after the Persephone rescue operation. She told me a lot of the Pilots aboard the _Solaris_ were whoever could get off. Seems like someone didn't want to switch sides that day."

"So we're gonna get this guy right?"

"That's the idea." Droz smirked then into his headset. "Stryder Two, be advised. Enemy merc moving towards your direction. Stay frosty."

"Yup. Get off here cowboys." Stryder Two instructed the two Vanguard Pilots riding on his chassis.

A warning chime went off on the holo-board and Droz quickly zoomed out the holo-board. Six incoming contacts were deploying on the planet side of the shipyard. Bish recognized the monster ship right away. The _Gibraltar_. Probably his second most hated ship on the Frontier right now, next to the _Colossus_. Seeing all six ships safely drift into the battle space was disheartening. Whoever was in charge of that small taskforce was talented enough to keep them alive this long. Bish begrudgingly had to give them that.

"Looks like we got even more problems." Droz commented off-hand. "If those ships get in place – I don't even want to think about it. Stryder One, let's get a move on!"

"Yeah, we're rolling." Uji said as the Stryder Vanguard got moving.

Bish saw something interesting on the back of the Stryder. "Is that a Triple Threat?"

"Uji," Droz spoke directly to the Vanguard squad leader, "try not to break the fire controls, yeah?"

Uji chuckled. "Don't worry, Hynfred is a master with this thing."

Instead of following Stryder Two into the tunnels, the Titan went towards the gorge moving under the rocky overhang. The Stryder raised it's Triple Threat up and began firing it's grenades into the window. A second later, glass and other debris rained on the Vanguards as Uji and another boosted up the wall and gripped the window's edge. On the count of 3, they both tossed EMP grenades into the breach.

Simultaneously, Stryder Two began engaging the Atlas inside the tunnel. Around the interior catwalk, the two Vanguard Pilots were clearing out the Marines. Despite their numbers, the IMC Marines were being beat back under the unconventional onslaught. Bish watched as the Vanguard Pilots closed in on the control room. They were being joined shortly by Captain June and the other SRS Pilots.

"The control room is ours," Captain June declared, "Stryder One assist Stryder Two."

"Yeah, I'm on it."

"Bish, I'm patching you in." June told him as her Proximity Broadband Interceptor Chip began interfacing with the hardpoint.

 _Alright, time to get to work._ Bish stretched his hands to crack the joints. As soon as he saw the node show up in his system, Bish quickly began running his programs to try and break into OSET II. The pattern was the same as before, still had to deal with their anti-hacking countermeasures and firewalls but each gun was it's own system and not networked together. Small favors.

"Commander Lorck, Captain Droz. Status." Graves' voice rang over the CIC.

"Breaking into One-Nine-Two now, sir." Droz reported.

"Our other guests arrived." Graves told them.

"We're aware. Commander Lorck is working on getting us that gun."

"Not just them," Graves' voice became darker, "a new engine just fired up on the rear side of the facility."

Bish tried to push out the news as he continued his efforts to break into OSET. In his periphery, he saw Droz update the holo-board and identified the new contact. "Is that..."

"Another _Gibraltar-class,_ correct."

Bish looked up from his hacking and saw the holographic image float above the board as Droz examined it. The ship was just like the monster looming over the yard but without it's weapons and most of it's frame wasn't even completed. Why would they spin it up now?

"It's not armed. Medical ship?" Droz suggested.

"Unknown. We need those guns under control now, Commander." Graves dropped the line.

"You heard him." Droz said gently reminding Bish.

Bish had heard Graves but didn't reply. He was already reabsorbed in his efforts to break OSET II. All the sacrifices they'd made to get him here, it couldn't all be in vain. Not now. Bish realized he'd gotten distracted in his head and with effort pushed the thoughts aside and pushed himself to try and crack the system.

Meanwhile, the two Vanguard Titans tangled with Nomad 13. The mercenary seemed to be holding his ground around the AA turret. Both Stryders couldn't brave the fire of the turret for too long without their shields being shredded. Stryder Two fired their Thermite launcher at the turret showering it with fire. Nomad-13's Atlas put up an energy shield and fired their cannon in bursts at the walls of the corridor. Concrete and rebar fragments pelted the two Vanguards.

"Can we get some supporting fire here?" Hynfred called over the comms.

"Copy that." Captain June answered instead. "Alpha, get your Archers in those windows."

Nomad-13 turned quickly before they even had time to lock on and threw bursts through the window of the fire control building. The 40mm cannon turning the Grunt's bodies into liquified gore over the floor and back walls. Before anyone else could react to the situation, a railgun round slammed into the damaged concrete nearly penetrating the wall. Hynfred's deep relieved sigh was audible over comms.

"Stryder One, report!" Droz asked.

"Railgun round nearly struck me. Half of it's still in the wall!" Hynfred described in disbelief.

Droz grabbed the mic on the headset. "Where'd that round come from!?"

"Tracking... there!" A Liaison threw up an image of a Widow Recovery Vehicle. Inside was a modified Stryder chassis with a railgun in hand. The feed caught the bright orange light from the railgun begin to charge up.

"Stryder One!" Droz began but the railgun had already fired.

Bish looked up in time from his laptop to see the Vanguard Ttian dissipate from the board. Another one dead trying to get him inside the cannon array. Bish scowled and began a new hacking attempt.

"Captain," June's voice came over the comms, "I need a new route. Traffic's blocked."

Bish paused his keystrokes for just a second before renewing his hacking attack on OSET II but heard Droz hum to himself.

"Copy that." Droz replied. A second later, Bish's headset clicked as the comm-channel was changed.

"Are we secure?" June's voice said.

"Yeah, I've just wired in Bish." Droz told her. "You think Nomad's been listening to us?"

"It would explain a few things." June said.

"Captain Bolton had a similar event happened in the Boneyard to the Seventh Annapolis. Stolen comm-jacks set to the team's tacfreq. Limited in scope but effective when used properly. Tactics used by the IMC's Ghost Squad – theoretically."

The comm-channel went quiet for a moment as both SRS Captains reflected on this possibility. Bish happily worked in the tense calm as there was less distractions. His new program he was adapting on the fly was finally showing promise. All it needed was more time and data to work.

"A former Ghost, survivor of Persephone, and now a Nomad mercenary. Quite the repertoire." June dryly commented.

"I take it that makes him interesting?" Uji said with distaste.

"It means it makes him harder to kill." Droz replied.

"We'll see about that." Uji said and before anyone could stop him he said over the old frequency. "Hey Nomad, are you listening?"

A few seconds later a gruff chuckle came over the comms. "Viper, change freq now." Then the comm cut.

Nomad-13 fell back behind the AA turret and his Titan reloaded it's 40mm. Next it turned and fired into the control room. Another railgun round sliced through the open air of the room, the blue shift barely visible as it whizzed by.

Stryder Two rounded the corner to drop a thermite round at Nomad-13 but the still active AA turret quickly turned and fired on him. Stryder Two ducked back behind the safety of the concrete wall.

"Bravo take over on the hardpoint." June ordered.

"What're you going to do?" Bish overheard Droz ask.

"We're gonna stay pinned here if we don't do something. So I'm doing something, Uji you're with me."

"Alright." Uji replied enthusiastically. "What's the plan?"

"We icepick the AA turret, give us some relief from that asshole in the Widow."

"Alright. Maybe bring my cowboys and rodeo Thirteen?" Uji suggested.

"No, hold them back for now." She declined. "Follow me."

Bish pulled the headset off his head and let hang around his neck. He was so close to cracking it just needed to get past this one... hurdle.

 _Exec Override Remote_

 _Validating Operator Credentials... Granted. Auth Code BISH-FU accepted._

 _Anti-Orbital Cannon No. 192 is now ready for remote operation. Input coordinates:_

Bish jumped out of his seat and shouted, "I'm in! I'm in! Fuckin' finally!" Bish quickly brought up his wrist-comm. "Graves, I've got access to one-nine-two's gun. Tell me where to shoot!"

Graves wasted no time in responding. "Kill that ugly bastard pounding my AO."

"Copy that!" Bish quickly sighted the _Gibraltar_ and input the coordinates for the cannon.

"That's pissed 'em off." Droz commented at something on the board

Bish didn't reply and was busy smashing the coordinates into the OSET II system. He watched the rotation of the gun target the big ship. Bish looked up at the holo-board to watch the _Gibraltar_ get struck from the sky. _This is payback!_ Bish thought to himself as he readied to hit the enter key. Warnings on the board lit up. Phantoms and Goblins were rerouting to the outpost. Sensors on the _Gibraltar_ must've registered the lock as it began to make evasive maneuvers.

"Come on! Come on!" Bish impatiently grumbled as the AOD cannon powered up to fire.

The comm-channels lit up with chatter as everyone on the deck at Outpost 192 began vigorously defending their position. The Titan in the Widow, a mercenary named Viper was firing his railgun at the joints of the AOD cannon in an attempt to break it. Nomad-13, Gray man, suddenly lost his position as the AA turret turned against him. Suddenly everything was going their way, bish's heart was in his throat. This was it. This was their chance to finally break Artemis.

As soon as the readout read 100% Bish didn't wait. The AOD cannon fired scoring a beautiful hit on the broadside of the _Gibraltar_. Strangely there was less fire than Bish was expecting, must've punched a round through the hanger section of that monster. Not to worry, Bish already had the gun charging up for a second shot. There were a lot of people he had to make the IMC pay for.

"Good hit Mister Lorck. See if you can hit the engines next, if you please." Graves' voice said with sense of relief and satisfaction.

"Can do, FC!" Bish readjusted the AOD cannon.

"Field Commander, Outpost one-nine-two is ours! IMC is bugging out!" June's voice carried the good news.

"Sir?" Droz's voice suddenly came in very worried.

"I see it." Graves' replied. "Lorck, target the _Falkland_ ASAP!"

Bish quickly pulled up the _Falkland_. It wasn't evacuating, instead it was gunning right for the _Annapolis_. They were gonna try and kill them instead.

"I'm working on it. I need two minutes!" Bish angrily smashed out his keystrokes.

"We don't have two minutes," Graves cut off only to begin addressing the whole ships, "All hands brace for impact. Emergency stations. I say again all hands brace for impact, emergency stations."

"Bish," Droz's voice urging him to hurry.

"I know."

"Hurry up."

"I know!" Bish growled as he tried to get the AOD cannon to fire again. It was only at 30% power, not enough to break the _Falkland_ but if he didn't do something now it'd be too late. "Fuck it!"

Bish fired the gun early, the round exited the gun without it's usual red glow. The railgun round not firing fast enough to shift the light around it. Instead, the steel rod collided into the _Falkland_ at high enough speed to kill it's engines but not destroy. The ship's course began to tumble through space but still on a collision course.

Warning lights came on as Graves ordered the bridge to evacuate. On the holo-board, Droz pulled out from the view of the outpost and to the projected course of the tumbling death ship. Around the _Annapolis_ Militia ships tried to give the _Falkland_ a wide berth so that the refueling ship could avoid impact.

"Non-essential crew evacuate!" Graves ordered.

"Go go go!" Droz shouted to the staff inside the CIC. "Bish!?"

Bish was already trying to connect one of the sensory dishes to the _Falkland_ hoping to be able to break into it like he had with AOD cannon. It wasn't working, the rotation of the spiraling ship was too intermittent to hold the signal long enough to break in.

Droz grabbed Bish by the shoulder. "Bish! Come on let's go!"

"Not yet – look!" Bish pointed to the holo-board.

The _Minnesota_ sped to intercept the tumbling _Falkland_ and fired one of it's main guns into the hull. It's impact shattered the tumbling ship into three major pieces and thousands of pieces of smaller debris. Bish and Droz looked on as the engine section spiraled into the _Minnesota_ lodging itself just above it's bow. Another section clipped the _Minnesota_ and bounced forward straight for the _Annapolis'_ bridge section.

"Graves!" Bish pulled up his wrist-comm not taking his eyes off the holo-board. "Graves get out of there!"

"AA guns target that debris!" Graves ordered. His voice still echoing off the PA system.

"Impact in twelve, eleven, ten..." A Liaison counted down in the background. Their voice calm but nervous.

"Graves!" Bish called again.

"The bridge is sealed, Commander." Graves' voice calm and commanding even now. "Take the shipyard."

"Graves! You son of a bitch! Don't do this!" Bish shouted towards the bridge.

"... one, mark." The Liaison finished.

Suddenly, Bish and Droz were flung from the deck into the overhead compartment. Something square hit Bish hard along his back. He barely registered it as his laptop. The next moment, Bish watched the floor rush up to meet him. He barely got his head tucked under his arms before he slamming back into the deck and the whole world went dark.


	22. Chapter 20 - Igor

"Complications"

En route to the Montana System

MCS Paul Revere

2698, December 1st

* * *

Shame, anger, regret, sorrow, and fear all competed for Igor's attention as he delivered the eulogy for the three sailors who had died in the accident that shouldn't have. The trusty and competent head of engineering, Preskott, whose only crime had been believing the blueprints of the _Revere_ were current, was now languishing in the brig. His charges of failure of carrying out his duty correctly had earned him a demerit to his record as was now Militia/Coalition law.

In the corridors, whispers now spoke of who would be thrown into the brig next and if their ship was unlucky or cursed. Sailors had always been superstitious and Igor privately hoped there'd be a way to soon turn the _Revere's_ luck around.

The eulogy was short and the crowd was small. By the time Igor had finished, most just sat in their seats in the hangar as the coffins were delivered into the deep black void of space. Even the SRS Proxy team hung in the back of the hanger, fully dressed in their Pilot gear incase of another failure.

Despite how handsome Ramirez looked, Igor resented being yelled at by the man, whose team had instigated the need for subterfuge. It was just after Oran had told him about how the accident had gone sideways. Some dockworker made an a mistake and didn't report it, so instead of the malfunction hitting a storage, the bar was struck instead. Shortly after Lance had left, Ramirez nearly kicked down the door furious that his team had been put into danger. At first, Igor was confused what the mercenary was doing there in the first place but then when he said one of his team was trapped inside along with dozens of others, Igor got the message.

"You knew this was going to happen Sargent," Igor had told him, "Bish specifically instructed something like this to happen. So I advise you to reassess this line of inquiry."

"Sir, my team wasn't in some out of the way hole," Ramirez said with controlled fury, "they're in the bar your guy sent to malfunction. What the hell kind of ship do you run here?"

"I am the Captain of this ship, mercenary. If you don't like it, you can walk back to Concord, understood?"

Ramirez's eyes and nostrils flared but he understood that he had no authority to question Igor's command. There was something dangerous in that pause, a familiarity that Igor didn't understand. _Not yet, I don't,_ his face seemed to say.

After the coffins were gone, Igor offered his door to any who wanted to speak to him. Not that he knew what to tell them but he could listen at least. It felt like the right thing to say. No one seemed interested, maybe that was grief, but Igor tried not to take it to heart. Finally, Igor left the ceremony and returned to the bridge, where Lance Oran was awaiting him.

"Sir, we're about ready to jump to Custer-By-The-Belt."

At least seeing Aubrey again would be good. It'd been months since he'd last seen her in person. "Very good Lieutenant. Let's set jump when ready."

"Yes, sir. Comm-O, all decks jump in five mikes." Oran gave the order.

"Aye, Lieutenant." The comm-O began issuing the call.

"How was the service?" Oran asked Igor pensively.

Igor shook his head. "Something I never want to get used to giving."

Lance nodded and returned to looking out the window of the bridge. Igor stifled a sigh. It wouldn't due to project looking torn in a situation like this. Instead, he asked, "What do you make of our passengers?"

The Lieutenant frowned and replied quietly, "Word is they call themselves 'Ram's Rejects', since they all got rejected for Pilot training. Seems like he gave them all a second chance like he got."

"He was ex-IMC wasn't he?" Igor recalled.

"Yes, sir." Lance confirmed than turned to Igor. "Do you think that'll be a problem?"

"No," Igor said hesitantly, "I don't want to stir up trouble where they might not be."

"Yes, sir. Of course." Lance said dutifully.

The Montana System was a vast uninhabited system, populated mostly with asteroids. Only two planets remained bathed in the dying red sun's light. Sho'ko had mentioned it once to him how odd it was for the system to have so many asteroids in it where a planet should be. Igor never really saw the mystery in a system full of rocks. Peter probably would have, maybe even understood what Sho'ko was saying about it too.

Fort Custer-by-the-Belt was the only major station in the system. Back when it was under IMC control, the fort's only function was to patrol the belt for Militia smugglers and pirates to make sure the two abandoned planetary research bases stayed abandoned. The Colonial Marines stationed there were bored, poorly supplied, and mostly forgotten about. When Graves returned under the Militia banner it was an easy flip for the Marines who respected his authority. Now the Militia stationed there were much the same as they were before.

Aubrey's research vessel was around a thousand klicks from them. The Brick ship sat with it's instruments examining an asteroid. Igor had his communications officer ping their vessel that they had arrived.

"Sir," the comms-officer said after an exchange with their comms guy, "their Captain wants to talk to you."

Igor tried to hide his smile as he picked up the receiver. "Aubrey!"

"Igor!?" Aubrey's voice sounded surprised. "They sent you? What am I saying? Of course they sent you!"

He was taken aback. Her tone left him wondering if she saw his arrival as a good or bad thing. After a moment, Igor pressed on. "Well, yeah, Lansford thought it would be a good idea..."

Aubrey interrupted him, her voice quick and serious. "Sorry, no it's good to see you, I just thought they would just send someone else. How soon can you come aboard?"

"Soon enough, why?"

"Good. You're definitely going to want to see this." She told him.

* * *

He definitely didn't want to see this. Aubrey, Ramirez, Aubrey's Co-Captain Terrance, and himself looked at several readouts that both Sho'ko and Terrance were comfortable chatting about in full jargon. Aubrey looked happy and relaxed. She wore a thick red Kodai vest for miners with her shirt sleeves rolled up over her elbows. A pen held up the bun in her hair and her nails were painted. The sight of Aubrey in her natural element disconnected with the memory of her struggling with her Militia uniform. She really was happy being out of the Navy. Somehow that realization hadn't fully connected with him until now.

"So," She said catching her breath, "when we traced the signal decay back towards it's source we found this."

Aubrey punched a coordinate into their nav-computer. The screen changed to reveal empty space. The place where the signal came from wasn't registered to anything on the star chart. It was just solid black space. Igor furrowed his brow while Ramirez crossed his arm.

"So, what? Did it come from a ship?" The mercenary asked.

"Hah! Well, when we cross referenced it with the Five-Oh-Four..."

"The one you found uranium deposits on Concord with." Igor recalled.

Aubrey smiled wide and pointed at him. "Yes, exactly! We found this..."

Igor smiled to himself, she hadn't even caught their old joke. She really was excited to be doing science again. Terrance loaded in the old 504 module and there it was an outline of a system where the empty space used to be.

"Ta-da!" Terrance waved his hand over the nav-computer as it loaded in the system.

"That doesn't make an sense. How is there not a system there anymore?" Igor said perplexed.

"Well, it actually happens a lot," Terrance answered, "the ISCM started back in the way old days when they used telescopes to chart the stars. Sometimes what looked to be a system wasn't a system at all."

"The decay vector," Ramirez interrupted, "how sure are you it originated from this point."

"Mm!" Sho'ko grinned. "I can show you the math we did."

The readout changed and along side physics math equations was the decay vector of the radio signal. Igor wasn't really clear on what he was seeing but he could tell that where the signal was the strongest was a thick red line and where it was weakest the line became dashed. Besides that, Igor wasn't sure what the equations meant. If Ramirez didn't either, it certainly didn't show.

"You accounted for planetary orbit?"

"Right there," Terrance pointed to a thick batch of readouts in the upper right of the screen.

"So if you caught it here... where was it headed?" The mercenary asked.

"Well, it was sent from a single source, a transmitter with a wide arc. We only caught a part of the wave."

"So not to someone, just to anyone. Like the message says." Ramirez looked unhappy with that confirmation.

"Well," Terrance casted a look at Sho'ko then to both him and Ramirez, "here's the thing. That company in the message, Landstrom Ventures, they worked out of Angel City."

"Okay..."

"Except, when you pull them up on the academic database... nothing." Terrance pulled up a terminal and did a search to show them.

"So it's a trap?" Ramirez guessed.

"Maybe, maybe not." Terrance answered. "I used to hear about the owner, Michael Covingham trying to strike it big before Dionysys could buy out his company. After Demeter, the IMC are looking to find that new place to refuel their fleets."

"You think they found it?" Igor asked. It certainly was an interesting idea.

"Possibly. When Kodai got taken out all over the Frontier, a lot of smaller guys got caught in the crossfire. I think when the IMC scooped up Landstrom, they purged them from every database they could." Terrance said.

"But they haven't claimed this system as their own yet." Igor stated.

Ramirez chuckled. "You think if you found the next Demeter, you'd announce it for the Militia to come and find?"

"Hm, I see what you mean." Igor cleared his throat.

"Which is why," Terrance paused, "we'd like to accompany you."

"What?" Igor felt like his face had suddenly been splashed with ice water.

"Yeah," Terrance grinned, "if there is a new planet, it would be of considerable scientific and monetary value."

 _Value?_ Igor couldn't believe what he was hearing. What was Terrance going on about? There wasn't any way that Aubrey would actually go along with this would she? He looked at her. To his surprise, she seemed intent on hearing an answer. Her eyes big and hopeful. Could she actually be okay with this? Going into enemy territory? No way. Even it wasn't Aubrey, having civilians along wasn't going to fly. Too many risks.

Igor opened his mouth to say as much but Ramirez spoke first. "That's a good idea. A ship like this could be useful."

"You can't be serious." Igor turned towards the mercenary. "We're going into enemy territory, having along a civilian ship is a liability."

He felt a twinge of guilt saying it and looked over at Aubrey and Terrance. Terrance nodded but Aubrey was looking down at the deck with a twisted lip. Was she seriously mad at him right now? How could she think he'd be okay with this idea? _They sent you?_ Her words flashed to his mind. So this is what she meant.

"We understand," Terrance said diplomatically, "and we're willing to follow any restrictions you lay out. However, we, the crew that is, believe that this could be an extraordinary find that will be in _everyone's_ interest."

Igor shook his head.

"Captain," Ramirez said, "despite the risks, I think the _Explorer Two_ would be an asset. They have instruments that the _Revere_ just doesn't have. Utilizing them could beneficial to our recon capacity. Maybe even capture better data from a safer distance."

Igor felt himself agree personally with Ramirez and yet couldn't bring himself to put Aubrey in possible danger. His crew was just barely holding together, having another ship to worry about was more than he was ready to deal with. Still, something about Ramirez's words was appealing. Safe distance. Could they really do that?

"Could you... capture the data you need from long distance?" Igor asked.

"Hah!" Aubrey's face beamed. "You kiddin'? We could could get great data from as far away as eight AU away!"

One Astronomical Unit was at least 150 million km, roughly the distance between Earth and Sol. So that would place Aubrey way past Jupiter, if his math was good. Which was a good distance away from where the center of the action could be.

"Sargent," Igor addressed Ramirez, "all you need is a visual confirmation of the IMC. That technology already exists on the _Revere_."

"That it does, sir." Ramirez agreed.

"So then, why risk civilians getting involved?" he asked.

Ramirez took a moment to consider the question then chuckled. "Sir, no tengo problema de ninguna manera. Figured, we might as well use it while we have it."

"Uh-huh," Igor mulled his answer, "considering the nature of the mission. It's best that we minimize our possibility of detection."

"But," Aubrey protested.

"If the system's clear, we can contact you to stake your claim."

She angrily sighed. "Fine."

Igor wanted to explain to her that this was for her own good. Keeping her safe was important to him as her friend. Aubrey had hated being apart of the Militia Navy. Now that she was out she wanted to tag along? Things didn't work like that in the Navy. Besides, even if this data came from somewhere it was probably just abandoned buildings and corpses if the IMC got there. There probably wouldn't be anything to worry about. Best to play it safe for now.

"Captain Sho'ko," Ramirez chimed in, "how many jumps could this ship do?"

"I'm sorry?" Aubrey said surprised but then answered. "Um, our downtime is around ten hours or less. Why?"

"This system you think exists, could you jump to it?"

 _Don't._ Igor glared at Sargent Ramirez. "Sargent..."

"One moment, sir. Could you jump to it?" Ramirez asked again.

"It does exist and yes." Aubrey answered confidently.

"Then as acting authority..." Ramirez began.

"Sargent, this is a direct violation..." Igor tried to talk over him.

"... for SRS Special Operation Twenty Three..."

"... of my orders and you cannot do this!"

"... and on my authority transfer my team..."

"Sargent!" Igor barked.

"... to the _CFRV Explorer Two_." Ramirez finnished.

Igor's face was warm with rage and disrespect. He had the urge to strangle the Sargent until his face turned blue. The room went still with awkward silence. Igor exhaled a breath through his nose, he didn't know he was holding.

"This is a direct violation of a direct order given to you by a superior officer."

"Disculpe," Ramirez's voice was cocky and pleasant, "but you are not _my_ superior officer, sir. I report to Captain Droz of the SRS. And since, this is an SRS operation – if you don't like it you can walk on back to Concord."

Throwing his own words back in his face! Igor couldn't believe how petty this mercenary was. Not only did not respect authority but the first chance he gets he takes his revenge. "This isn't over, Sargent."

"This isn't your ship, sir. With respect, until we arrive at the unknown system and complete the operation's objective. Please escort the _CFRV Explorer Two._ "

Igor was so enraged that he was worried he'd make a fool of himself. "I'll send a Crow with your remaining team." He seethed and walked out of the room.

He should of never taken this mission. The only reason he'd done it in the first place was as a favor to Lansford and to help Aubrey. Now both of them weren't around and what semblance of plan they'd had, had been thrown into the wind. His heart ached for some of Peter's tea and the smell of herbs in their kitchen. He'd almost gotten back to the Brick ship's hanger before Aubrey caught up to him.

"Igor! Wait!"

He didn't want to. Every fiber of his body wanted to stomp and shout. Igor wanted to scream and curse the Militia. To pour out his anger in a childish display in front of everyone. Of course, he couldn't. He had responsibilities to the Militia Navy, as a Captain to demonstrate a calm and collected demeanor under pressure. He'd been outwitted by of all people a turncoat silverback mercenary. Igor wasn't sure if he hated himself or Ramirez more at this moment.

"Igor, goddamn it, wait!" She shouted.

He stopped and turned around. Aubrey had placed her hands on her waist and rested her weight onto one hip. She looked like a teacher about to scorn a small child.

"Yes, Captain..."

"Stop that!" She interrupted him then frowned. "Look, I know I ambushed you, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get involved."

"Why wouldn't I, Aubrey?"

"I know you've watched over me when we were on the _Montana_ but things are different now. I have a scientific responsibility. My team and I want this."

"What's wrong with playing it safe then, Aubrey? Do you even know whats in that system? Do you have any idea?" He pointed back down the hall.

"Do you?" She raised her eyebrow.

"Better then you do – which is why I don't want you in that system."

"What then?"

 _Twenty IMC Super-carriers from the Demeter Fleet ready to kill us to protect their new planet._ Instead he said, "You heard the Sargent in there. Could be a new Demeter."

Aubrey looked away and a smile played on her lips. "Come on, the IMC aren't the threat they used to be..."

Igor's laugh was sharp and rueful. "You're not that naive are you?"

"And you're a prick!" She lashed back then sighed. "Sorry, I don't mean that."

Igor scoffed.

"I don't. Listen, you're a Captain now. Your career is going places. I... I'm worried that if I don't make another discovery soon mine won't."

"Is that what this is really about or something else?" He pointed to the Kodai logo on her vest.

"Can you imagine what the commission would be on finding a new untapped fuel reserve for the Coalition? Any funding I'd ever want would be mine. All I ever wanted to do was science, Igor. You know that! Better than anyone else probably."

He did. Igor licked his lips. His mouth and throat felt dry. "Yeah," he managed.

"Besides after this," she said gently, "we're all going back to Concord anyways. So win-win?"

"Yeah," Was all he could manage to say.

"Great! So let's find us a system that doesn't exist, okay?" She made a playful punch against his arm.

She was still in there, the dorky, awkward, nervous Captain he'd served under months ago. Now in her element and passionate about science again, she had changed or was changing. Something, he didn't want to do.

"Okay," he replied, "but Aubrey do me a favor."

"Sure, Igor." Her smile returned to her face now that the argument was over with.

"Keep an eye on Ramirez. There's something about him that doesn't seem right. If he does something out of line, tell me about it."

"Uh, yeah alright." She shrugged. "Anything I should know about?"

He thought about Ramirez's words to him in his quarters. Igor was still unwilling to let Aubrey shoulder his suspicions. "He's a mercenary, Sho'ko. They're unpredictable. Especially him."

She nodded. "Right."

"If you need me to clean him off your ship, just say the word and MARDET will sweep him up."

"Got it Igor."

"Okay, good luck Captain. I'll see you in space."

"Aye aye." Aubrey smirked.

* * *

"Captain on deck!" The Boatswain announced.

"Captain has the con." Oran sat up from the Captain's chair and saluted.

"I have the con." Igor saluted back and took the seat.

"Sir, system coordinates received from the _Explorer Two_." The Navigator informed him.

"Understood. Plot course and prep engines. Lieutenant, inform Fairwyn that Los Mejores will need transport to the _Explorer_."

One of Oran's eyebrows arched. Igor mouthed _later_. Oran silently nodded that he understood and began relaying Igor's order to Fairwyn. Sitting back in the chair had a different edge to it now. The stakes for the operation had changed in a way Igor hadn't anticipated. Ramirez was playing a dangerous game that could get Aubrey killed. He wasn't about to let that happen.


	23. Chapter 21 - Noughton

_Hey everyone, it's been a while. I apologize for the gap between this chapter and last. Things came up as they usually do and it's taken me some time to get back to writing (and editing). Not that I haven't been active per say, I've been working on a few more chapters but they still need to be worked on before they can be published. For now, I hope this will do. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Unexpected Visitors"

Unknown System

CFRV Explorer II

2698, December 2nd

* * *

"Get that Titan strapped in now!" Ram ordered the Explorer's deck hands.

Behind him, Newg hurriedly strapped on his armor and gear. After the Sarge and the Revere's Captain had left the _Revere_ , Fairwyn told them they had to leave the ship pronto. Gutock, Dom, Zuda, and him rounded up their gear and hopped into an awaiting Crow. They arrived just before their Ttians did.

Noughton casted a glance over at his Atlas, RX-8088. The refurbished Titan walked itself into one of the available Titan bays of the Explorer and waited for the clamps to seal. The Atlas' globe observed the clamps before entering standby mode.

Captain Sho'ko walked up to the Sarge, hands on her hips. Sarge looked at her sidelong, still keeping an eye on the workers. She waited for the sound of the cargo hold to die down before she spoke.

"I don't like you did back there."

Ram grunted. "If you didn't like it, why did you let me do it?"

Newg saw her eyes narrow. "I shouldn't have, but like you, my crew needs to earn a living."

"Ore mining and salvage not enough, huh?" Ram finally looked directly at her. "New contracts from better clients certainly help. Especially nowadays." He grinned.

The Explorer's Captain seem to shiver. "E-exactly."

"Don't look so frightened Sho'ko. Your friend's going first and we'll follow right after."

Her look of apprehension didn't disappear. The Sarge placed a hand on her arm and said something he couldn't hear. Newg finished strapping his armor on and placed his helmet on his head. For a second the sound of the cargo bay was dulled out as he helmet adjusted and synced his suit. When it read all clear, Newg collected his Hemlock and slapped a mag in.

"Sir, Private Noughton ready!" He announced.

"Que bueno!" Ramirez came over to him and thumped the locked heart emblem on his chest.

Sho'ko sensing the conversation with the Sargent was over returned to the bridge. Dom came forward next still pulling a belt into the feed of her Spitfire LMG. Next by Guttock and his G2A4 rifle slung across his back. Ram went up to each one inspecting them, his pride growing until Zuda stumbled forward adjusting his suit's neck. Ram frowned for a half second and went on wordlessly. The shame from the _Revere_ incident still fresh.

"Mejores," Ram said, "we will soon be jumping into an unknown system possibly under IMC control. We've come a long way since Overlook and we still have a long way to go. So, let's do this and get back in one piece. Entendo?

"Sir, yes, sir!" They responded.

"Alright, saddle up."

The ready Pilots jogged over to their Titans. Noughton's Titan, "ReX" offered her hand for him to climb on to. Newg hopped up and let his Titan bring him up to the cockpit. He grabbed onto the sides and turned around to sit down. The doors closed and Newg watched the screens flicker to life. Even if nothing happened, just being inside Rex was enough to finally make him feel like a full fledged Pilot.

"Welcome back, Pilot." The default Betty OS chimed.

"Thanks Rex." Noughton replied automatically.

Noughton gripped the controls getting a feel for it. Rex was still clamped in and that wasn't about to change anytime soon, so it was hurry and wait. Newg checked the readouts like he had several times in a Hammond training pod. The comm-link clicked and then began to broadcast the ship's general channel to his helmet.

"This is Nevar Chandaress, your pilot for this leg. We'll be taking a stroll into uncharted Frontier. For those of you new aboard, this pilot has one rule – don't touch my flight stick. Other than that we should get along fine. Happy trails!" Nevar cut the link.

The Mejores chuckled in their seats. Nevar's sense of humor dulling the edge of their nervous excitement. Newg took in a deep breath then sighed. His fingers flexed over the levers then gripped them again.

"Aubrey," a man's voice came over the link, "status is green, ready for jump."

"Great, let's make Concord a thing of the past." Aubrey clapped her hands.

"Aye aye," Nevar said enthusiastically, "everyone hold on to something. We're jumping in ten, nine, eight..."

Zuda whooped and Dom mumbled something about time as the world slowly turned to white as the Jump drives fired up. Newg blinked and it was all over. The ship chatter reported back all good and then the scientists on board began calling out features and colors.

 _... a yellow star, there could be life here!_

 _I count, two no three planets. Wow, that one is so green!_

Newg relaxed back into his seat. Looks like it was going to be another boring drop like Overlook. More comm chatter indicated that the _Revere_ and _Huntsmen_ had arrived. No sign of the IMC yet or the mysterious signal they were looking for. Noughton threw his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Looks like they were babysitting some scientists...

"What's that?" Someone asked.

"Donde?" Ram ordered.

Newg leaned forward his hands at the controls. The Sarge's voice tense and alert. Seconds passed and no one said anything over the comms. They seemed to stretch on and on. Finally Sho'ko said something.

"It was too fast to be natural, it couldn't be..."

"Yeah," Sarge answered.

"But they couldn't actually be here... oh god..." The _Explorer's_ Captain shuddered.

"Shit," Zuda commented.

No one told him to shut up. Noughton took that as a bad sign. They must all be worried too that the IMC were here. Suddenly being in his Titan felt too tight. His breaths started coming quicker. Were they going to die in the middle of space? He didn't want his last moments of life being trapped inside a floating Titan millions of kilometers from home. Maybe he should open the hatch and catch some fresh air that might help.

"Don't." Gutock's voice told him.

"Huh!?" Noughton started, his voice surprisingly raspy.

"Don't. Open. The hatch, Noughton."

"I..." Newg began to protest then stopped.

"It's scary but if the ship breaks right now, you'll be pulled into space. Best to stay inside." The grim advice chilled Noughton.

"O-okay, sure." Noughton slowly sunk back into his seat.

Suddenly someone yelled contacts over the comms. Newg's breath caught in his throat. The comm-channel burst into competing voices all trying to yell over each other. Noughton couldn't follow any of it, it was too hectic.

He looked at the other's comm-lines to see if they were talking but they were quiet. This was insane they were about to die. Noughton desperately wanted to see what was happening out there. What were the _Huntsmen_ and _Revere_ doing out there? Was it one ship or a whole fleet?

"Jump!" Ram's voice said clearly.

"Are you insane!?" Sho'ko fired back.

"That planet, second from the sun. It's in the golden zone, it should be okay!"

"Okay!?" The Captain yelled. "I don't have the time to explain to you how shoddy that hypothesis is! There could be any number of bad things that could happen to us on that planet, let alone jumping!"

"It's that or die here!" Ram yelled back. "Helm plot it!"

"No! Nevar don't! You're insane Sargent!"

"I'm saving our lives!"

"Captain...?" Dom asked worried.

A scuffle could be heard over the comms followed by Nevar grunting. Then a deep rumbling followed by the sound of ear splitting screeching echoed throughout the ship. The engines hadn't finished refueling at all from the last jump. A brick ship like this still needed at least an hour or so to have any real fuel levels. Not to mention the heat sync hadn't finished cooling the engines. Panicked, Noughton tried to remember where they were in regards to the engines...

The next few seconds were a blur.

The ship swerved. The world went white. Noughton remembered falling. Suddenly, he woke up in his Titan. He was surrounded by thick trees that reached towards the sky. A rising feeling pushed up the contents of his stomach and Newg vomited all over his boots.

After coughing and spitting, Newg wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Rex, where are we?"

"Current position – unknown."

"Are we okay?"

"Chassis is intact. Superficial damage only."

"Great," He said as he inspected the cockpit for any signs of damage, "how long was I out?"

"Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds."

Noughton brought up the environmental data outside his Titan and was relieved the air was breathable with only a marginally higher oxygen level than average golden worlds on the Frontier. He switched on his Titan's environmental data recorder then synced the data with his wrist-comm so that he could have a map going for the planet.

Next, he checked his team's comm-channel for any signs that his team had made it. All but the Sarge's seemed active. Noughton hoped he'd made it through the crash, if there was a crash. Somehow him and Rex had made it here somehow.

"Rex, playback record starting from when the _Explorer_ jumped."

"Understood. Displaying playback." The Titan's screen began running a playback of it's main camera.

Noughton watched as the docking bay shook violently as the _Explorer_ ripped itself apart. The few deck hands still in the bay were pulled out as cargo followed them. A scream could be heard over the audio and Noughton recognized it as his own. Ram's voice ordered the clamps released as the team dropped into emergency Titanfall.

"Pause." Noughton said and looked at the Titan dropping in front of him. It had come from the right, so that must've been Dom's. "Play."

He watched Dom's Titan drop parallel to his own then shift away farther towards the planet's pole. So... north? He wasn't sure. Then half of the _Explorer_ came into view and Dom's Titan was trying to fall in the same direction. For a brief second, Guttock's Titan appeared then disappeared a couple times. As Rex slowly fell towards the ground, Noughton lost sight of his team. He hadn't seen Zuda's Titan at all. Did he drop? Was he on the other side of the ship? Noughton ordered Rex to replay the playback a couple more times before he let it finish out with them smashing into the ground.

"Rex, are any of the team's transponders on?"

"Negative. Approximately thirty seconds after the crash all team emergency transponders were switched off." His Titan answered.

"Switched off? Not destroyed?"

"Affirmative. Titan data shared between units indicated that all units survived the crash."

"Why did they switch them off?"

In response, RX-8088 displayed a message on screen from the Sarge. _All Mejores cut your transponders ASAP. IMC everywhere._ Cold fear shot down Noughton's spine. His transponder had been on for nearly 9 minutes...

"Rex kill our transponder now!"

"Emergency transponder is now off."

They had to move now, staying here any longer was too dangerous. Taking control of his Titan, Newg moved Rex quickly at first then slower the farther from the site they got. Crashing all alone on an alien planet was bad enough, on one crawling with IMC? Things got quite seriously fucked real quick.

His Atlas was making good time over the flat swampy terrain but with all the tall trees around there was very little in the way of cover. Noughton kept an eye on his radar for any red blips. Overhead, he could make out the a faint steady droning noise. Similar to a ship's engine. From down here there was no way to tell which side it was on. Part of him wanted to check, the other part of him wanted to hide.

He got his answer shortly after. A drop pod smashed into the swamp about 20 meters in front of him. The silver pod's doors opened and four Spectres deployed. Noughton watched as they assumed firing positions behind two trees and opened up on him.

"Fuck," he muttered and returned fire with Rex's XO.

The thick tree's bark sprayed dust and shrapnel as he tried to pick off the Spectres. He scored a few hits on one but the other three retreated behind cover. Not too long after that, more pods crashed around him. One squad of Spectres emerged wielding anti-Titan weapons.

His radar showed them had him penned in. Noughton spun Rex around facing the new Spectre threat and cut down two of the AT units. Seeing an rocket coming for him, Noughton maneuvered behind a tree, watching the trunk absorb the impact of the blast. The blast was followed up by the _ker-chunk_ of a mag launcher. The magnetic bombs arcing towards his Titan's metal chassis. They too hit the tree and whatever support it had left was gone. Slowly, the thick tree crashed into the swamp below.

"Aw shit!" Newg grunted firing two short bursts down range.

Two more pods crashed by his position. One was close enough that he drove Rex's fist inside crushing the Spectres. The small arms fire picked up, rattling Rex's shields. It wasn't too strong yet but Noughton had to make sure they couldn't get a fix on him.

Another Spectre emerged from the other drop pod and stuck him with a arc grenade. The EMP disabling Rex's left arm, making it harder to stabilize his XO-16. Newg had the urge to call out to his team in the blind but he tried to hold back on that impulse. He grimly accepted that their odds of survival went up the longer they weren't found.

Rex kept pushing away from the AO trying to outdistance his pursuers. The ship above the canopy must still have a fix on him. Newg was at every disadvantage he could think of. After a few more yards, he paused swung the XO-16 atop Rex's shoulder and fired a quick three round burst to minimize recoil and keep the Spectre's heads down.

The damn machines didn't know fear and kept doggedly pursuing him. Noughton pushed ahead some more, easily traversing a fallen log with Rex's stride. He turned, crouched down and laid his Titan rifle against the log, jamming it against Rex's shoulder. Newg fired short bursts then turned the Titan to swing the gun towards the next target. The movement was too clunky and difficult on the angled log to fire straight. After about four tries, Noughton swapped to the Titan's ordnance and fired a salvo into the cluster of Spectres.

At least four of the mechanized infantry went down but nearly as soon as the rockets hit, a series of pops came from somewhere inside the swampy forest. Moments later, the sound of screaming incoming rockets sounded overhead.

"Shiiit!" Newg quickly pulled from cover as a series of quad rockets kicked up mud and water in front of his position.

As he ran, Rex's left arm recuperated and gripped the Titan rifle again. Newg made short zig-zags around trees hoping to avoid getting hit as the Titan barrage opened up on him. In front of him the jungle foilage grew thicker. Noughton plunged forward, hoping to use the foilage to break line of sight with the Spectres. Instead, the foilage was a thick tangle atop a steep river bank. Rex nearly fell face forward into the water.

He quickly recovered and dropped into the deep river. The other side was just as steep and would take time to traverse. That reduced his options to up stream or down stream. Down stream felt naturally like going away from the IMC and somehow that instinct felt wrong to him. Instead, Noughton charged upstream feeling that going up hill might give him a terrain advantage over the enemies coming from the swamp forrest.

"Be a really fucking shitty place to die!" He angrily told himself.

Noughton had gone only a hundred yards up stream when IMC search drones began tracing over the riverbed. The drones were unarmed but instead were equipped with speakers broadcasting a stuffy human voice over and over again.

"All Militia and Militia sympathizers, this is Colonel Eckhart of the IMC's Planetary Security Division – Athena. You are intruders on hollowed ground. Under His vision, you cannot be allowed to leave."

 _His vision?_ Noughton rolled his eyes. _Who? Hammond's? Isn't that guy a head in a jar or something?_

The stuffy voice continued. "We can only promise a quick and painless death to those who surrender. Those who resist will find their end – slower. I can only hope that the traitorous Graves will join you as well when we sweep over the Frontier, cleansing it of your misbegotten ideals!"

The phrasing jolted Noughton for a moment. What the hell was this guy talking about? Who ever this guy was, he was nuts.

Gunfire erupted behind him and the drones' message ceased. Newg spun Rex's camera around hoping to see the Sarge, but instead he saw more Spectres coming from the river bank. Doing a double take, he saw that the Spectres were IMC silver and still very intent on shooting him as well. There wasn't anytime to think about why the IMC were shooting their own search drones but the image stuck with him.

Newg pushed Rex around a bend in the river and found a huge drain pipe. The structure was large enough for his Titan to fit in. Better yet, the incoming bombs might not hit him if he was under a mountain. Rex's lights automatically flared up illuminating the deep blackness. The tunnel seemed to go on forever.

He turned back around to see the pursuing Spectres setting up yet another firing line. Yet behind them emerging from the forest was a Titan. A Stryder perhaps? Yet it's upper chassis was strange. From the back of it emerged an elongated dish about 3 meters long. It was just a brief glimpse before the bright blue eye of the Titan turned in his direction. On it's face, it bore a warped and melted version of the IMC ram horns.

Noughton turned back into the tunnel. His Titan's radar picking up multiple Spectre-sized contacts. Small arms fire chipped away at his shield but it wasn't steady enough to do major damage. Just a reminder that they were still there.

"Come on just a little further silverbacks," Noughton mumbled.

The Spectres continued their chase after him. Once they were far enough inside, Newg could take them all out with a good burst of his XO. Inside the tunnel they'd have no cover giving him the advantage. A few seconds later, Newg sprung his attack.

He twisted Rex around and just as his gun faced them he opened up. The tracer rounds went high over their heads at first but Newg corrected and cut them down. Sparks and electronics rattled around the tunnel. After a few seconds, he released the trigger. It wasn't because they were dead, it was because the rest of them had stopped.

The entrance of the tunnel was filling up with the Spectres' blue lights. What looked to be three rows of them, filling in an almost semi-crescent inside the tunnel. Blocking out the light behind them was the Stryder-like Titan. It slowly knelt down, it's cameras examining the sides of the tunnel. As it got up again, the Spectres suddenly pushed forward on some unseen command.

Noughton returned fire but his XO's drum ran dry. Rex's OS notified him of multiple lock-on signatures. Noughton tried to reload the drum quickly as bursts of smoke plumed from the tunnel entrance. Archers!

Just in time he was able to put up his vortex shield. Noughton counted the eight rockets in the Vortex before he sent them back towards the Spectres. The Stryder at the main entrance put up a particle wall. The wall flashed from blue to yellow from the force of the impact. In return, the IMC Stryder withdrew the Quadrocket from it's back and fired into the tunnel's ceiling. The surviving Spectres were crushed under the combination of falling cement and rock.

When the dust had settled, broken and damaged Spectres crawled along the floor of the tunnel. Some had lost been twisted and damaged, broken by the collapsing tunnel. One or two still were active and Newg had to slug a few rounds into their bodies deactivating them.

Afterwards, the tunnel was incredibly still. The only sound coming from the light trickle of the water beneath his Titan's feet was. Facing the entrance, it was clear there was no way he could get through. Trapped, separated from his squad, and very alone. Noughton had no other option but to go deeper into the tunnel. Hopefully, he could find another way out...


End file.
